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hoshifighting · 2 months

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Arranged Marriage

Synopsis: Where you and Minghao parents had this grand scheme to merge their companies by marrying you off, thinking it'd be a brilliant business move. Determined to stake your claim and keep your marriage intact, your make a bold move during a business party— planting a lipstick-stained kiss on Minghao's lips and yanking him by his tie, leaving no doubt that he's yours and yours alone.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Smut, throat fucking, blowjob, fingering, penetrative sex, public make out, jealous kiss, angst, forced marriage, mentions of diets.

You're standing there in this fancy white dress, all sparkly and shiny, making your way down the aisle to where Minghao's waiting. He's looking all sharp in his suit, with his hair on point and a little smirk on his face. But as you're walking towards him, you can't help but remember the last time you two really talked was at some boring company event.

Now here you are, about to say your vows like you actually mean them. But deep down, you know it's all just a bunch of lies. You and Minghao both know it. It's all for show, to make your parents' company look good. And the worst part is, everyone at this big fancy wedding knows it too.

The party's huge, like a wedding and a business conference all mashed together. People you've never seen before are milling around, probably part of some shady business deal your parents cooked up. It's like this whole thing isn't even about love or unity anymore. It's just one big networking event disguised as a wedding.

But you go through the motions anyway, smiling and nodding like everything's perfect. You exchange vows that are as fake as the smiles plastered on both of your faces. And as the night goes on, you can't shake the feeling that this whole thing is just a sham. A pretty, expensive sham, but a sham nonetheless.

You watch as people schmooze and mingle, making deals and connections left and right. And you can't help but wonder if this is what your future holds too. A life of pretending, of smiling for the cameras while behind closed doors, it's all just business as usual.

But for now, you paste on your best fake smile and dance the night away, pretending that everything's okay. Because that's what you do when you're part of a family like yours. You put on a show, no matter what's really going on behind the scenes.

You're feeling suffocated by the crowd inside, like the tightness around your waist is almost causing claustrophobia. So you slip away to the backyard, sneaking a slice of cake from the waiters. Your mom had you on some ridiculous diet for a whole week leading up to this wedding, all so you could look "good" in your dress.

You plop down on a wooden bench, the dress spreading out in a big poof around you. Just as you're about to take a much-needed bite of cake, you're interrupted by a voice.

"Why isn't the bride inside enjoying her own party?" The voice belongs to Minghao, hands in his pockets as he stands there, looking at you.

You scoff, shooting him a look. "I'm sure no one's noticed. They're all too busy discussing the stock market or whatever." Your tone is sharp, the underlying tension between you and Minghao palpable.

Minghao snorts, clearly not impressed by your response. "Yeah, well, maybe if you spent less time worrying about your parents' company and more time actually enjoying life, you wouldn't be stuck in this mess."

You bristle at his comment, feeling a surge of anger rising within you. "Oh please, like you have any room to talk. Last time I checked, you were just as tangled up in all of this as I am."

Minghao's expression darkens, and for a moment, you worry you've gone too far.

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a half-eaten slice of wedding cake. You watch him go, feeling a mix of frustration and something else you can't quite name. Maybe it's just the champagne talking, but for a brief moment, you can't help but wonder what life would be like if you weren't tied down by expectations and obligations.

You stare at Minghao, disbelief written all over your face as you take in the sight of the one hotel room your parents booked for the both of you. A single queen-sized bed sits in the center of the room, effectively splitting the space into two halves. You shoot a glance at Minghao, and from the look in his eyes, you can tell he's just as shocked as you are.

The tension between you is palpable as you both stand there, sharing silent but deadly gazes. Finally, you break the silence, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, isn't this just perfect? Our parents booking us one room to 'get used' to each other. As if this whole shit wasn't enough already."

Minghao lets out a scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah, because nothing says 'happily ever after' like forcing two strangers to share a bed on their wedding night."

You bite back a retort, opting instead for a more diplomatic approach. "Look, I think it's only fair that I take the bed and you can sleep on the couch."

Minghao raises an eyebrow, his expression incredulous. "And why is that?" he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You roll your eyes, feeling irritation bubbling up inside you. "Because I'm the bride, for one," you retort, "and two, I've been on my feet all night, walking around in a dress that weighs a ton and heels that could rival skyscrapers. I think I deserve a decent night's sleep."

Minghao lets out a short, humorless laugh. "Oh, please. Do you even know how exhausting it is to be the groom? I've been dealing with people all night, pretending to be someone I'm not, just like you."

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms defiantly. "Fine," you say, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips, "then let's settle this once and for all. Who's more tired: the bride who's been carrying around twelve kilograms of dress and heels all night, or the groom who's been putting on a show for hours on end?"

Minghao looks at you for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he's trying not to smile. But then he shakes his head, a look of resignation crossing his face. "You win," he says, finally relenting, "you can have the bed."

You smirk triumphantly, feeling a small sense of victory despite the absurdity of the situation. And as you crawl into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin.

The next day rolls around, and before you even have a chance to properly wake up, you're thrown into a meeting. Brunch with both families sounds nice in theory, but when Minghao's dad starts putting papers on the table and declaring, "Let's get to what matters," you realize this isn't going to be a typical family gathering.

You try to maintain a facade of composure, but the discomfort gnaws at you like a persistent itch. So you do what you've gotten used to doing – you look down, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room.

Minghao notices immediately, and you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face. His cheeks flush with embarrassment from his father's directness, but you can't bring yourself to look up and meet his eyes. The weight of expectation hangs heavy in the air, and you can practically taste the tension swirling around the table.

As Minghao's dad starts talking about business deals and partnerships, you try to focus on the sound of his voice rather than the sinking feeling in your stomach. But no matter how hard you try to block it out, you can't shake the feeling that you're just a pawn in someone else's game – a game you never asked to play.

You steal a glance at Minghao, but his expression is unreadable, his mask firmly in place. And in that moment, you realize just how alone you really are in this world of high-stakes deals and empty promises.

You're lounging on the couch, the TV blaring in the background, but your mind is miles away. The penthouse feels emptier than ever, despite being filled with all the trappings of luxury. You and Minghao live under the same roof, yet it feels like you might as well be living on opposite ends of the earth. Separate rooms, separate lives, with only a perfunctory "good morning" or "good night" exchanged between you.

The loneliness weighs heavy on your chest, suffocating you with its presence. You long for something more, something real, but it feels like an impossible dream in this gilded cage you've found yourself trapped in.

You're lost in the numbing glow of the television when your phone buzzes with a notification. It's Minghao, informing you of a press conference he's scheduled for later that night. You furrow your brow, puzzled by the sudden announcement.

But it's his last message from the previous night that catches your attention. "Can you at least put on your best smile tonight?" he'd asked, a request that feels more like a demand. And you can't help but feel a pang of frustration at his presumption.

You make your way to his room, finding him hunched over his computer, the glow of the screen casting harsh shadows across his face. You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms as you watch him for a moment before speaking up.

"What do you mean by that?" you ask, your voice tinged with a hint of annoyance. "Put on my best smile? What's that supposed to mean?"

Minghao looks up from his computer, his expression unreadable. "It means exactly what it sounds like," he replies coolly, his tone clipped. "We both know how important appearances are in our world. So why not make an effort for once?"

You roll your eyes, feeling the anger bubbling up inside you. "I think you mean that you want me to play the dutiful wife once again, to plaster on a fake smile and pretend like everything's fine," you snap, the bitterness seeping into your words.

Minghao's jaw tightens, and for a moment, it looks like he's about to argue back. But then he sighs and runs a hand through his hair, looking suddenly tired and defeated. "Look, I know this isn't what either of us wanted," he says, his voice softer now, tinged with regret. "But it's what we have to do. For our families, for the company."

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "Is that really all that matters to you? The company? "But fine," you say through clenched teeth, pushing yourself away from the doorframe. "I'll put on my best smile tonight. But don't expect me to enjoy it."

You sit in the backseat of the chauffeur-driven car, your gaze fixed on the passing landscape outside the window. The skyscrapers blur into a haze of steel and glass, a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling inside your mind.

Minghao breaks the silence with a casual remark, his tone tinged with amusement. "You don't look like someone who agreed to the terms of our agreement," he observes, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

You let out a frustrated huff, tearing your eyes away from the window to glare at him. "Yeah, well, maybe I need some time before I can fully commit to this whole acting profession," you retort, your words dripping with bitterness.

Minghao presses his lips together, trying to suppress a laugh at your expense. The corners of his mouth twitch with amusement, but he manages to keep his expression neutral as he looks away, pretending to be absorbed in the passing scenery.

You bristle at his reaction, feeling a surge of indignation coursing through you. "What's so funny?" you demand, your voice sharp with irritation.

Minghao shakes his head, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Nothing," he replies casually, his tone disarmingly nonchalant. "I mean, take all the time you need… Just try not to look too pitiful when we walk through those doors."

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

As the chauffeur stops and opens the door for you, signaling your arrival at the event, Minghao's voice cuts through the silence.

"Hand," he says simply, holding out his hand towards you.

You raise an eyebrow, shooting him a skeptical look. "Excuse me?" you reply, not quite sure you heard him correctly.

Minghao's lips twitch into a smirk as he repeats himself, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "I said, hand," he repeats, his tone playful yet insistent.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at his audacity, but begrudgingly, you reach out and grab his hand, almost aggressively. His grin widens as he intertwines his fingers with yours, the touch surprisingly delicate despite the underlying tension between you.

As you and Minghao step into the event, hand in hand, you can feel the weight of your parents' surprised stares on you. Their eyebrows shoot up in disbelief at the sight of you two holding hands, a rare display of unity between the two families.

Minghao squeezes your hand gently, a small smirk playing on his lips as he catches your parents' reaction. "See?" he murmurs softly, leaning in close to you. "It's easy. A little thing like this makes them happy."

You can't help but feel a surge of resentment bubbling up inside you at his words. Easy for him to say, you think bitterly. He's always been the one who effortlessly falls into line, who knows exactly how to play the game to get what he wants.

But despite your inner turmoil, you force a tight smile and nod in agreement, not wanting to cause a scene in front of your parents. "Yeah, easy," you echo, your voice strained as you try to keep up the facade.

As the long-winded speeches from the ambassadors drone on, you find yourself sinking deeper into your chair, exhaustion weighing heavily on your shoulders. Minghao leans in close, his voice a soft whisper against your ear as he asks if you want something from the bar. You shake your head, declining his offer with a tired sigh.

He nods in understanding and excuses himself, disappearing into the crowd for a moment. But as the minutes drag on and the speech finally reaches its conclusion, Minghao still hasn't returned. Your eyes scan the room, searching for any sign of him, and that's when you spot her – a woman leaning in close to him, her body language oozing with flirtation.

Your stomach churns with a mix of anger and disbelief. What does she think she's doing? That's your husband she's flirting with, for crying out loud. You glance down at your wedding ring, then back at Minghao, then down at your ring again, the weight of it heavy on your finger.

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you stand up from the table, your movements cautious as you make your way over to them. Fuck, you hate that you're doing this right now, but you can't just sit idly by while some random woman tries to make a move on your husband.

Minghao's eyes widen in surprise as he catches sight of your determined gaze, and for a brief moment, you almost feel guilty for interrupting. But then you remember who you are – his wife – and the guilt fades away, replaced by a steely resolve.

"I have a wife," Minghao's voice cuts through the air, firm and unwavering, as you approach him and the woman who's been flirting with him. His words send a jolt of surprise through you, momentarily halting your steps.

But before you can even react, Minghao continues, his tone tinged with irritation, "And she's storming over here, so please, just leave me alone."

"Hi, Hao," you greet Minghao as you finally reach him, unable to hide the hint of irritation in your voice. "You took a long time. What happened?"

Minghao's eyes widen slightly at your abrupt approach, and he stammers for a moment before the woman beside him interjects, "Oh, she's your friend?"

Minghao's response is immediate and almost defensive. "No, I don't know her," he says quickly, his tone betraying his discomfort.

You can't help but suppress a smirk at his awkwardness, feeling a small surge of satisfaction at seeing him squirm. "Nice to meet you," you say smoothly, extending your hand to the woman. "I'm Mrs. Xu."

The woman's eyes widen in surprise as she takes your hand, clearly caught off guard by your assertive introduction. "Oh, um, nice to meet you too," she replies, her voice slightly shaky.

You turn your attention back to Minghao, noting the relief in his eyes as you come to his "rescue." Poor Minghao, you think to yourself, feeling a twinge of sympathy for him despite your earlier annoyance. He clearly didn't know how to handle the situation, and the sight of you coming to his aid seems to help him breathe a little easier.

The woman walks away, leaving you and Minghao standing there in the aftermath of the awkward encounter. You turn to him, your expression a mix of frustration and concern.

"Come on, Minghao," you begin, your voice low but firm. "You need to know how to handle situations like that. What if people who know our family saw that? It could cause all sorts of rumors and complications."

Minghao's jaw tightens as he meets your gaze, a flicker of defensiveness in his eyes. "I didn't ask for her to approach me," he retorts, his tone defensive. "I told her I have a wife. What more do you want from me?"

You let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair as you try to keep your temper in check. "I just want you to be more aware of how your actions reflect on both of us," you reply, your voice tinged with exasperation. "We're married, Minghao. That means we have to think about each other's reputations and how our behavior affects them."

Minghao's expression softens slightly at your words, but there's still a stubborn set to his jaw as he crosses his arms over his chest. "I know that," he says, his voice quieter now, more subdued. "But sometimes things happen, and I can't control them."

You shake your head, feeling a surge of frustration rising within you. "That's not an excuse, Minghao," you say firmly. "We both have to do better if we want this marriage to work. We have to be a team."

Minghao's lips twitch into a smirk of his own, a challenge flashing in his eyes as he steps closer to you. "Oh, is that so, Mrs. Xu?" he replies, his voice dripping with mock innocence. "And what exactly would it take for me to earn back the privilege of being called by my first name?"

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a laugh at his cheekiness. "Maybe if you stopped getting yourself into awkward situations with random women at parties," you shoot back, unable to resist the opportunity for a playful jab.

Minghao feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "Hey now, that wasn't entirely my fault," he protests, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Besides, you were the one who came to my rescue, remember?"

Minghao's playful grin falters as you shoot him a pointed look, hands firmly planted on your hips. "Am I wrong now? What should I do then?" you challenge, your tone laced with frustration.

He shrugs, his expression sheepish as he searches for an answer. "You need to make them know I'm your husband," he suggests vaguely, a glimmer of uncertainty in his eyes.

You narrow your gaze, a surge of determination coursing through you as you follow his line of sight to the woman who had been eyeing him earlier. She's still watching him, her gaze lingering a little too long for your liking.

"Fine then," you declare, your jaw set in determination. Without another word, you reach out and grab Minghao by the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer to you. Before he can protest, you press your lips to his in a firm, possessive kiss.

For a moment, Minghao freezes, his hands hovering uncertainly in the air. But then, as if realizing what's happening, he responds eagerly, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair as the kiss deepens.

You trail kisses along his neck, feeling a low hum of satisfaction reverberate through him. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer as you continue to explore the sensitive skin of his neck with your lips.

When you pull back slightly, his eyes meet yours, a hint of mischief dancing in their depths. You reach up and gently tug on his bottom lip, a silent invitation for him to surrender completely to the passion between you.

Minghao's lips part in response, his eyes darkening with desire as he leans in to capture your mouth in another searing kiss. You can feel the heat of his body against yours, the intensity of the moment threatening to consume you both.

As you finally break the kiss, your lips swollen and tingling with the taste of him, you look at his face, satisfied with your handiwork. His lips, jaw, and neck are adorned with smudges of your red lipstick, a visible testament that being arranged or not, he is your husband.

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you reach out and grab Minghao by the tie, tugging him gently but firmly in the direction of the exit. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise at your sudden assertiveness, but he follows your lead without hesitation.

As you walk through the party, you make no effort to hide the fact that you're leading Minghao out by his tie. You want everyone to see, especially that woman who dared to flirt with him earlier. With each step, you feel a surge of satisfaction knowing that you're marking your territory, making it abundantly clear to anyone watching that Minghao belongs to you.

People turn to look as you pass by, their curious glances met with a confident smile from you and a sheepish grin from Minghao. You hold your head high, your grip on his tie unwavering as you guide him through the crowd.

Finally, you reach the exit, and with one last glance around the room, you pull Minghao outside, the cool night air washing over you both. Alone at last, you turn to him with a victorious smirk.

"Well, that was fun," you say, a hint of laughter in your voice as you release his tie. "But I think we've made our point. Shall we get out of here?"

Minghao chuckles, shaking his head in amusement as he takes your hand in his. "Absolutely," he replies, a warmth in his eyes as he looks at you. "Anywhere you want to go, Mrs. Xu."

As soon as you step through the door of your home, you're wrapped up in a frenzy of passionate kisses with Minghao. Clothes, shoes, and his tie fly off haphazardly as you stumble towards the nearest surface, unable to keep your hands off each other.

Between kisses, Minghao pulls back slightly, his lips brushing against your neck as he speaks. "I didn't know you were that jealous," he murmurs, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You hiss in response, your breath catching in your throat as his lips trail along your skin. "I wasn't jealous," you protest, your voice tinged with frustration. "I was just...rescuing you, you bastard!"

Minghao laughs at your outburst, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Hmm, just like a predator," he teases, his hands roaming over your body with a newfound confidence.

You scoff at his comment, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. "You've seen nothing yet," you reply, meeting his gaze with a challenge in your eyes.

Minghao's eyes light up with excitement as he looks at you, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

"Yeah," you confirm with a smirk, pulling him in for another kiss.

But then, his hand moves to the top of your head, gently guiding you downwards until your knees find the ground. You look up at him with a mixture of desire and anticipation, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you eagerly await his next move.

With a shaky breath, Minghao pulls himself free from his pants, his cock standing proudly before you. You wrap your hand around it, feeling the heat and hardness of him beneath your touch. A wicked grin plays at your lips as you tap the tip of his cock against your face, biting your lip in anticipation.

Minghao lets out a shaky moan at the provocative sight before him, his eyes dark with desire as he watches you. "Fuck, you're so damn sexy," he groans, his voice rough with need. "You know exactly what you're doing to me, don't you?"

You smirk up at him, your hand still wrapped around his cock as you tease him with your lips. "Mmm, maybe," you purr, your voice dripping with seduction. "But I want to hear you say it. Tell me how much you want me, Minghao."

His breath hitches as he meets your gaze, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guides you closer to him. "I want you more than anything," he confesses, his voice thick with desire. "I need you, baby. Please, show me how much you want me too."

You eagerly lower your mouth onto Minghao's throbbing cock, sucking greedily as you take him deeper and deeper into your mouth. You can feel him thrusting his hips, the need for more driving him to move against you.

Your hands slide down to his thighs, giving him the freedom to move as he pleases. His fingers tangle in your hair, guiding your movements as he sets the pace, his hips rocking against you in a rhythm of his own making.

As you take him deeper, you close your eyes, relaxing your jaw to accommodate his length. Minghao's voice breaks through the haze of pleasure, his words a gentle reminder of his concern for your well-being.

"Tap if you need to breathe," he murmurs, his hand tightening in your ponytail as he continues to move his hips.

You press your hand against his thigh in affirmation, letting him know that you're okay as you continue to take him deeper, your throat working to accommodate his length. Minghao lets out a low groan of pleasure, his hips moving in tandem with your movements as you both chase the pinnacle of ecstasy.

Between thrusts, Minghao's voice fills the air with a husky whisper. "God, you feel so fucking good," he moans, his words driving you to take him even deeper. "You're amazing, baby. Just keep going, just like that."

As Minghao's cock throbs in your mouth, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through you, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Drool drips from your chin, a testament to your eagerness and arousal, as you continue to take him deeper, your mouth working tirelessly to please him.

With each throb of his cock, you can feel the tension building, the heat of his arousal radiating through you. Your eyes roll back in your head, lost in a haze of pleasure as you surrender yourself completely to the ecstasy of the moment.

And as Minghao's cock pulses in your mouth, you know that you've pushed him to the edge, his release imminent. With one final throb, he cries out your name, his body tensing as he spills his cum into your waiting mouth.

You swallow eagerly, savoring the taste of him. You moan softly as Minghao's lips meet yours again, the taste of him still lingering on your tongue, and he slowly guides you towards his room.

As you fall onto the bed, Minghao's fingers trace lazy patterns along your inner thighs, making you squirm beneath his touch, unable to hide your arousal as he gazes down at you with dark, hungry eyes.

"You're so wet…" he murmurs, his voice thick with desire as he continues to tease you with his fingers.

Minghao's lips curl into a smug grin as his fingers trailing lower until they reach the damp fabric of your panties. With agonizing slowness, he begins to peel them away, revealing your glistening folds to his hungry gaze.

"Tell me what you want, baby" he whispers, his voice a low growl in your ear as he leans in close. "Tell me how you want me to make you feel."

You arch your back, aching for his touch as you meet his gaze with a sultry smirk. "I want your fingers inside me, Minghao" you breathe, your voice dripping with desire. "I want you to make me come so fucking hard"

Minghao's eyes darken with lust as he hears your words, his fingers finding their way to your slick entrance. With a wicked grin, he plunges his slender fingers deep inside you, his touch sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

And then, just when you think you can't take any more, he finds it – that deep spot that sends electric jolts shooting through you. Your pussy clenches around his fingers in response, a desperate attempt to hold your orgasm.

But Minghao isn't finished yet. With a wicked grin, he leans in close, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers his intentions. "You're not going to cum yet," he murmurs. "Let me hit that spot with my cock, then you can cream around it as much as you want."

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, with the promise of what's going to come. With a nod of agreement, you bite your lip in anticipation, eager for the moment when Minghao will fuck you with his cock.

As Minghao positions himself above you, his gaze locked with yours in a silent promise of pleasure to come, you sneak a peek at his cock. It's long, with bulging veins and dripping with pre-cum, making it clear he's rock hard and ready to go. The contrast with his slender body just makes it look even bigger.

Before you can even think of a response, Minghao speaks up, his voice low and husky. "You ready for me, baby?" he asks, his eyes smoldering with desire.

You open your mouth to reply, but before you can get a word out, his cock is stretching you out, leaving you breathless and speechless as he fills you completely.

As soon as Minghao finds your g'spot, your pussy immediately tightens around him, milking him with such intensity that he has to hold himself back from coming right then and there. His pretty moans only serve to heighten your own arousal, making it even harder for you to hold back your impending orgasm.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his voice strained with pleasure as he tries to control himself. He hopes that you'll stop clenching, but as soon as he hits that spot again, he hisses in response, the sensation driving him wild.

Realizing that he's in danger of cumming too early, Minghao decides to focus on fucking you in just the right way, hitting that spot with precision and intensity. He squirms, desperate for you to climax first, knowing that your pleasure will only fuel his own.

With each thrust, each movement, the pleasure builds between you, reaching a fever pitch that threatens to consume you both. Minghao's hips move in a steady rhythm, his cock driving deeper and deeper into you with each thrust, his own pleasure mounting with each passing second.

And then, finally, it happens. You reach the peak of ecstasy, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm as pleasure washes over you in relentless waves. Your pussy clenches around Minghao's cock, milking him for all he's worth as he loses control, his own release crashing over him in a tidal wave of pleasure.

With a tired groan, Minghao collapses beside you, his body spent from the intensity of your shared passion. He turns to you with a lazy smile, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction.

"If I'd known all it took to get you to kiss me was making you jealous, I would've done it ages ago," he teases, his voice laced with amusement.

You roll your eyes, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "I wasn't jealous," you protest, crossing your arms over your chest.

Minghao raises an eyebrow, his expression incredulous. "Imagine if you were then" he scoffs, his tone teasing. "I don't think we'd be here right now if you weren't just a little bit jealous."

You huff in mock indignation, but deep down, you know he's right.

ou nudge Minghao playfully, a smile dancing on your lips. "Well, lucky for you, a little jealousy was all it took," you quip, teasing him.

He chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling as he gazes at you. "I guess I'll have to remember that for next time," he replies, his voice tinged with amusement.

You laugh, shaking your head in mock exasperation. "Oh, so there's going to be a next time now?" you tease, raising an eyebrow.

Minghao grins, leaning in closer to you. "Count on it," he murmurs, his voice low and husky as he brushes his lips against yours.

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januaryembrs · 1 month

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THERE'S NO SIGN OF LIFE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [3]

Description: The one where you grieve Emily together (+ the one where you kiss him)

word count: 7.9k

trigger warnings: okay so this chapter is exactly how it sounds, heavy in themes of grief, depression, anger, slight ideation of the world being better without bugsy (as if), DRUG USE (once and not addictively and not by Spencer!), mention of Spencer being horny, mention on blood and drinking.

authors note: this was just supposed to be a little filler chapter for the next one where the real juicy shit happens and long story short it became nearly 8k words of pure angst until the last minute when I decided to stop hurting you all. please don't hate me, promise a big boy chapter is coming up.

previous chpt | next chpt

'Doctor, look into my eyes.

I've been breathing air, but there's no sign of life.'

The team had fallen into chaos since Emily died. Hotch thought that just five little stages of grief weren’t quite enough to summarise what they were going through.

Morgan was pissed off by the smallest things, had flipped shit just that morning because the printer had jammed. He'd gone through two mugs and a keyboard in just two weeks in his tempers that had certainly seen better days.

Penelope’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears she was trying her hardest to choke down, to wipe away so fast she could pretend to still see her computer screen, but Hotch didn’t need to be a profiler to see the way her sleeves were smudged with mascara, sodden through 24/7.

Rossi seemed resigned, tired, his breath smelled faintly of the strong whiskey he saved for special occasions, his hair unkempt, as though he hadn’t slept until the early hours, or if he had it had been unrestful. He took more frequent breaks, came back smelling like the cigars he kept in his desk drawer for the bad days, and he sighed as if the world beat down on his back, like he’d been asked to choose between stopping world hunger or saving the environment. His chest was heavy. His face was tired of losing so many friends he loved.

Spencer was working himself to the bone, his desk piled with books (even more so than usual), his fingers twitching by his side more often, as if his brain cells had been dialled up to a thousand percent, which was saying something when it came to Reid. In fact the only thing out of ordinary was the fact he was constantly checking his phone, the sight of which had Pen dropping her coffee on the rough carpet, which she had promptly then excused herself with watery eyes over. Yes, he actually knew how to use technology, which he had been so vehemently against for years, until the team realised it was because one very important member of the team had been using her sick days for three weeks now.

They knew he was looking after her, that he would bring her dinner and make sure the cats were fed, but they had no idea she had all but moved in with him, Niko and Sergio included.

Yet he found himself checking the screen every twenty minutes or so for signs of an update, even just a thumbs up or a little sign that said seen under his good morning texts. He was scared he’d wandered too far into boyfriend territory, it certainly felt that way when he would come home to see her bundled on the couch, nose deep in one of the books he would leave out for her, how her eyes would light up just the tiniest amount to see him home. She rarely cooked, he knew she didn’t even touch the food in his fridge no matter how much he reminded her she needed to eat when he wasn’t there, to which she usually just nodded at him and buried her head in his arm to escape the scoldings.

Things were different with her here. He knew she was vulnerable, lost, he saw it every time she came crawling into his bed from where he’d set her up in the spare room, or when Sergio made himself home on her lap and she squeezed the cat to her chest in quiet tears. Usually he would have squirmed out of her grip, he had always preferred Emily, but these days he just let her sob with a docile blink at where Spencer watched her from the other end of the couch, and pretended not to notice when his fur was sodden and messed up.

Spencer had felt something for her before, the weeks, months even leading up to Emily dying, but with her here, needing him all the time, holding him tightly when he needed to grieve himself, making herself at home in his personal space, he was sure she knew it too. There was no way she didn’t know how he felt.

But the topic was too heavy, too complex to bring up with her mourning her sister, it would rip the carpet out from beneath her feet, and no matter how heavily, besottedly, how deeply Spencer felt he loved her, he would never do that to her. He couldn’t.

He had always loved mind games, but loving someone so much you couldn’t not tell them, only to not tell them because you loved them so much felt like a whole paradox even he couldn’t wrap his big brain around.

So they stayed where they were. She had good days, though they usually looked like said reading on the sofa with nothing but a strong cup of coffee in her stomach. And then she had bad ones. And the bad ones made him scared, so scared he had no choice but to get help.

Penelope came over the Friday evening with Spencer after work, kitted out entirely with nail polishes and gems, the box set of Barbie movies, a hot chocolate mix she swore by, three tubs of ice cream, face masks, Teen vogue with a Never have I ever section ‘Begging to be answered’ and of course, her Pièce de résistance, her makeup kit and joke fluffy handcuffs for them to tie down Reid and give him a makeover.

“Hello my handsome gentlemen,” She greeted Niko and Sergio who rushed to the door on instinct, knowing Spencer always gave them each a big handful of treats upon arriving home, “Auntie Penny is here for a super girly evening, no boys allowed,”

“Am I not invited?” Spencer asked, faux hurt flashing on his face as he shut the door behind them, though his eyes were quick to scan around his living room for any sign of her. There wasn’t, not even a single pillow was out of place, and he knew it had been another day of skipped lunch and breakfast.

“You are, of course you are, I just didn’t want them to get jealous,” She whispered, her brown eyes taking in the too perfect apartment and the lack of the Prentiss girl, “Is she sleeping?”

“No,” He said without checking, because he knew she rarely slept nowadays unless she was in his bed with him, “I’ll go get her,”

“Okay,” Some of the joy died out of her tone when she heard his voice soften sadly as she set her bags down on the kitchen counter, “I’ll get the hot chocolates ready!” Penelope tried to recover in that perky tone she used to cover up when something hurt her.

He just hoped this had been the right decision, that he wasn’t pushing her too hard.

Knocking softly on her door, he let himself in when he heard a small murmur on the other side, and as he suspected, she was curled into a small ball under one of his blankets, her hair wet, her pyjamas in the laundry basket. She had one of his shirts on and some boxers he had noticed had gone missing, but he would never hold it against her.

She had showered while he was gone at least, and her breath was minty fresh as he crept over the woolly rug and kneeled one leg on the bedside.

“Hey,” He started softly, sweeter than honey, his cadence somewhat hopeful as he leaned over her and stroked her hair that was still damp. “You got up! Did you eat anything?”

She looked up at him with tired eyes, but she reached out with both her arms to embrace him gently, like she’d been waiting all day to have him near again.

“I had a couple biscuits and some coffee,” Her voice was raspy, and it was the first he’d heard her speak in a few days. “I’ll try better tomorrow, I just was a bit tired today-”

“No, no, that’s great,” He rushed to comfort her, to stop the apology that was coming his way whenever she didn’t take care of herself the way he wanted her to, “Penny’s here to see you. She’s here for a girl’s night, if that’s okay?”

Bugsy attempted a smile, though she seemed hesitant, but he thought that was probably just the way her expression was these days, like everything hopeful had been sucked out of her.

“I’ve missed Penny,” She said, and he knew she meant it. She nodded finally, and he leaned over her to give her a proper hug for putting on a brave face, feeling her nuzzle into his chest at the contact. She sniffed the air for a second, before whispering into his ear, “Is that chocolate?”

He chuckled, stroking down her back and pulling her up into a sit. He’d gotten used to her being pliant under his touch, and he only wished her being so receptive to his advances would be under other circumstances.

The urge to grab her face and kiss every bit of hurt out of her was growing harder and harder to shove down with every day he saw her so soft and wounded. He wasn’t good at knowing what to say, but for her, he was trying to be. The only alternative was kissing her silly, until the pit she’d crawled into was warm, just warm all over, and she came back to him in one piece.

“Yes, it’s chocolate. Now come on, before she starts the movie without us,” He breathed gently, helping her out of bed, pretending he didn’t hear the way her joints cracked with the first sign of movement in hours. “Wait a second, pants,” He reminded her, tossing her some sweatpants from the floor, which she shoved on blindly. He didn’t mind her walking around like that if it meant she were comfortable, but he didn’t want her to give Pen a scare.

A ghost of a smile teased on her lips as he led her out the room with two hands on her shoulders, seeing the blonde woman light up like the fourth of July at the sound of the two of them approaching.

“Bug!” Penelope called, mid way through distributing a hefty amount of whipped cream and marshmallows on top of three mugs. Spencer watched the second her eyes widened slightly as she took in the girl’s appearance, trying frantically to cover it with an even wider smile, rushing to hug her tightly. He saw the minute she realised she felt so different in her arms; lifeless, heavy, rooted to the spot, like any contact with someone other than the gentle Spencer-touches she was used to made her lock up.

She looked sick, like she hadn’t known fresh air in weeks, or like she’d pulled three all nighters in a row, or like she would be able to watch a ten car pile up and not bat an eye. She looked dead. She felt dead in Penny’s arms.

The thought of it made her squeeze her tighter, until she felt two arms cuddle her back firmly.

“I see Spencer has been treating you well,” Pen said, because she was avoiding the subject of Emily, and the way Bugsy looked exhausted, and the way she saw how scared Spencer was when he’d come into ‘the bat cave’ that afternoon to ask for her help.

Bugsy attempted another smile, nodding slightly as the blonde drew back from their hug, and she saw the worry she tried so desperately to hide as she took in her face.

The girl’s skin was dull in a way they’d never seen her before, her expression tired, her bones creaky, like someone had reached down her gullet and plucked her soul right from out of her chest, snatched it there and then. Penelope saw why Spencer looked so worried.

“He’s been great,” Bugsy replied simply, her eyes finding Spencer’s where he shadowed behind her, worried she would faint on the spot from all the movement. She’d not been eating anything other than what he encouraged down her throat, but he supposed a handful of biscuits were better than nothing.

She felt the bottomless pit that used to be her heart rip open just that bit further, the way it had done slowly the past few days, eating away at her skin. She knew she could never ever repay Spencer for everything he was doing, knew the odd few times she’d managed to collect herself enough to be there for him when he cried could never amount to how he hovered over her every second he was home.

But where she should have felt guilt, there was nothing, there was just nothing left of her.

He seemed to notice the slip, the way he always did, and she never did tell him how perceptive he was as he stroked over the back of her hair, leading her with a warm hand on her upper back to the sofa where Pen had already laid out the movie selection, had already grabbed the hot chocolates that were quickly melting onto the coffee table, where Niko was waiting with an eager pink tongue to collect his share, where he settled her down and wrapped her in a blanket as if he was swaddling a baby, where he let her take the middle and him and Pen on either side as Fairytopia lit up his living room with hot pinks and rainbows and flowers and magic.

And even though she had yet to crack a smile, a real one at least, she seemed content, not entirely uncomfortable with the evening as Penelope commandeered one of her hands to paint her nails a shiny blush colour ‘to match the evening’. Spencer thought for a minute she might have just needed some girl time, something no matter how many cuddles and sweet words he whispered could never give her. Maybe that was all she’d needed.

Maybe she would get through this without entirely crumbling.

It wasn’t until the next day when even showering was too big a feat for her, when she had only two mouthfuls of the blueberry pancakes he’d made her before she apologised with watery eyes that he realised how stupid he was for believing it.

It wasn’t until she said she wanted to move back home by herself that he really started panicking.

JJ took her out for a picnic in the park the following weekend. The guilt was eating her up alive about hiding Emily’s secret, and from what Pen had told her, she wasn’t doing good. She wasn’t even doing bad; she was barely hanging on by a thread. Hotch had said she would be a flight risk with her sister gone, had said they would need to keep an eye on her as much as they would the rest of the team, but for Emily’s safety she couldn’t tell her the truth. JJ could only stand back and watch as the girl they all knew crawled into something dark inside herself and barricaded the door closed.

Spencer had taken the nice approach with her, never forcing her to do anything she didn’t want to or asking too directly, as had Penelope. They’d both tried letting her open up by herself, which had only resulted in the girl taking about five steps back and even starting to shut out Reid, something which they all saw tore him up even more than seeing her wasting away in his spare room. He spent more days at hers, crying harder than she had seen him even when he was struggling with opioids. Crying for Emily some of the time, but mostly crying for the fact he was entirely helpless now she had moved out, like the one thing that had held him upright until then had left in a guilty mess of ‘sorry’s and dead eyes.

So she instead took the approach of telling Bugsy she needed help. Because if there was one thing that had always been able to bend her will, it was someone else needing her.

JJ thought about reminding Spencer that Bug would come back if he took the same route, if he just told her how badly he needed her instead of her feeling like she was simply a burden on his life. But she knew he wouldn’t hear it, he would only blame himself more.

So she’d told Bug she was struggling with looking after Henry alone while Will was working away, that he’d been asking for her since she’d come to his second birthday party with the biggest stuffed whale toy he’d ever seen. It was a white lie, Will was home more days than she was, but Henry had been asking for ‘the bug lady’ every time he played with his teddy. And it worked like a charm.

So they sat in the warm April breeze, Bugsy reading on her stomach as JJ carefully nudged a punnet of fat, red grapes her way, hoping she would take the hint and swallow a few.

It wasn’t until Henry came diving over to them from where he was collecting snails by their shells that Bug even showed any sign of pulling herself out of the book.

“Buggy!” The little boy called, his tongue struggling with the complexity of the ‘gsy’ sound, and she looked up at him with a tired smile on her face that JJ saw right through immediately. “Buggy, look,”

She held out her hand, and he gently placed a common land snail in the palm of her hand, no bigger than a quarter, who happily slid over her fingertip with a squishy sensation.

“Thankyou, Henry,” She replied, her eyes trailing over the shiny slime he left behind over her palm, his tiny antenna eyes googling up at her. “What should we call him?”

“Sid’d’snail,” Henry replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world, crouching next to her to watch him crawling over her chipped pink fingernails.

“Hi Sid,” She chimed, and JJ watched her face drop into a completely emotionless expression the second Henry’s back was turned to find Sid a friend.

She felt it clawing at her throat to come out, Emily’s alive, Emily’s alive, come back to us please, please come back to us because Emily’s still alive. JJ was watching her rot in front of her very eyes, and better yet she had the power to stop it with those very few words.

She could put an end to all of this, she knew how badly it had hurt when Ros died, her older sister, her whole world ripped from her the way Emily’s ‘death’ was doing to Bugsy. She would have given anything for someone to have turned to her and said ‘Jennifer, your sister is still alive. Jennifer, it was all a trick, a hoax, a ploy to keep you safe. Jennifer, Ros is still here, alive and breathing and living her best life in Paris of all places.’

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t betray Emily like that, and knowing, no matter how much of a relief it would come, would put Bugsy in more danger with Ian Doyle and whatever other enemies her sister had made at interpol than she could have ever realised.

So instead, JJ just ran a gentle hand over her hair that warmed in the sun, and started braiding parts of it absent-mindedly, like they were two girls in a playground waiting for hometime.

JJ stayed quiet, and watched Bugsy get worse.

Aaron came over to her apartment at 8am sharp. He’d found JJ and Penny in floods of tears in the women’s bathroom when they were due to start the presentation of the latest case and they were nowhere to be seen. Spencer had become detached, quieter with every day that he checked his phone and saw no reply, but had mentioned he’d seen them go into the bathroom together as he got his morning coffee, only for their boss to see the two of them clinging to one another with wet cheeks and before he could even ask, Penelope splurged that Bugsy hadn’t messaged in four days and was refusing to open the door, and that even Spencer asking so sweetly, something that was usually her kryptonite, had failed to draw her out.

Aaron was convinced if this didn’t work he was kicking down the door himself, even if it meant filing paperwork for a necessary home visit.

Aaron Hotchner, surprising to no one, was soft on the youngest Prentiss girl. He’d watched her grow for four years straight, had come to her of all people in his hour of desperate need, and felt every second of her grief as if it was his own because he, like JJ, knew he had the power to stop it all but couldn’t.

He called her name through the door first, her real name, loud yet anxious, along with a firm knock. When he heard nothing back, he rapped on the wood louder, “Bugsy, I know you’re in there. The team are worried about you, they’re worried you’re hurt,”

Nothing.

And it wasn’t just the team that was worried, it was him too, if his heavy fists banging even harder were anything to go off of.

“Bugsy, if you don’t answer I’m sending for the SWAT team and asking them to ram this door down,” He said, with not a trace of a lie in his tone. Because he wasn’t lying, not by a long shot.

He heard footsteps then, and she appeared through a small crack in the doorway, not open enough for him to see the mess in her living room, but enough to see the way her entire face looked like a cadaver.

He fought back against the guilt choking him from the inside out.

“Stop yelling,” She murmured, almost bitterly, “You’re scaring the cats,”

“You’re scaring us,” He countered back, in a tone that was a little too mean, but from what he heard, soft and gentle wasn’t working, “Please, just let us help you, stop pushing everyone away,”

“That’s a little pot calling the kettle black there, Hotch,” She said in an equally harsh tone, her face scrunching into a frown, and she nearly slammed the door on him right there and then.

“Get your work out clothes on, we’re going for a run,” He ordered, and it was only then she notices his sport shorts and trainers. She scoffed in his face. He was quick to shove a foot in the door before she actually could swing it shut on him, ignoring the way he nearly yelped as it trapped between the wood, “I’m not asking,”

“Fuck off,” She spat, and he bristled at her choice language, but he saw the way her eyes told him everything he needed to know. She was a roadkill on a sidewalk waiting to be put out of her misery; she didn’t want to be prodded and poked at and ordered around, she wanted out.

She wanted to go quietly, without a fight. And it was for that reason, he put up more of a struggle.

“You are coming outside with me, even if I have to drag you down the street myself because this is not how it ends for you.” Aaron barked back, forcing the door open with one of his large hands as if it was nothing.

“Of all people, I would have thought you would understand, Aaron,” It was like she had slapped him in the face, though he thinks maybe that would have hurt less, and it was only then he saw her eyes had welled up, and her bottom lip was quivering. It was a horrible sight, it twisted his guts like he’d been stabbed by Foyet all over again, but it was better than the nothingness that was there before.

“Ofcourse, I understand,” His voice softened, his hands coming up to gently rest on her shoulder like she was breakable china beneath his palm, “You think I don’t know what it’s like to want to hide away and never face a world without Haley ever again? I can’t, even now, imagine the rest of my life with her gone,” His throat clogged with emotion he fought off, because he refused to have both of them crying in her living room when he was meant to be the one pulling her out of it, “But I do it because Jack needs me-”

“No body needs me,” She said emptily, ignoring the way Sergio wrapped his tail around her leg and meowed loudly as if to tell her otherwise.

“Yes we do,” Hotch insisted, seriously, damn near ready to shake her on the spot to knock some sense into her, “We need you, and better yet we love you. You may have lost your sister, but you still have a family waiting for you, Bugsy,”

And that was it, the single crack that broke the dam. Before he knew it she had launched herself into his arms in a fit of tears, clinging to him tighter than he thought she could for someone who looked so weak and perished.

He just held her close, feeling his own stray tears drip down his nose as his shirt got wet through. In another life, maybe he and Haley would have had a daughter, and maybe she would have reminded him of Bugsy, maybe his heart would soften to putty just the same way it did with her. The same way it did for Jack.

And eventually, when she dried her face, and quietened Sergio down, she went to put on her gym gear and one of Spencer's hoodies she’d stolen and felt too guilty to give back, and they went for a run.

If there was one thing Rossi knew better than his whiskeys, it was how to cook a good carbonara. And if there was one thing Bugsy needed more than anything at the moment it was a buttload of carbs and cheese.

Aaron had been taking her running every morning since that day, and even she had to admit the fresh air and exercise did her good, made her feel stronger and less like the women they find in body bags at the beginning of a case, made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could get through the rest of this.

It wasn’t going away overnight, not by any means, but she looked healthier, and her exhaustion meant she got more sleep too, but what remained was a hunger that she was filling with cereal and instant noodles that Rossi knew he had to put a stop to immediately. Instant noodles should have been outlawed with crack and underaged drinking, he would proudly tell her.

So he invited her over for a cooking lesson, or as he would put it, she could watch him cook and eat as much as she wanted at the end, if she promised to never buy those awful microwave ramen ever again. And she’d agreed, because she felt her appetite coming back every day (and she knew where he kept the good white wine).

“Now as entertaining as this is watching you drain my stash of Sémillon, why don’t you chop up that pork and I’ll get started on the sauce.” He handed her a sharpened butcher’s knife, and the thin slices of seasoned ham, turning to use the stove for just a few moments, “You’re gonna add the cream in until it becomes thick, like cough mixture running off your spoon,”

“Thick and creamy, you got it,” She chimed in, her fingers slicing the meat into strips, “Did you want this as diced or Julian?”

“Do you mean julienne?”

“That’s what I just said,” He chuckled into the pot, his chest warming to hear some of that old bratty teenaged sass returning to her tone. He bet she would have run rings around him if she was his kid.

“Diced, if you would,” David said, using a wooden spoon to stir in the thick cream little by little until the container ran empty.

“Yes, Chef,” She hummed in response, flipping the chopping board around to begin slicing them the other side, “So, I’m guessing if I asked to try some of that Sauvignon I saw in the fridge, your response would be- oh motherfucker-”

David frowned, “Maybe not so harsh on the tongue but-” He turned around when he heard a hiss, and he quickly understood why she’d thrown the expletive out there.

Her hand ran red with thick blood, dripping quickly down her arm, ruining her shirt. He didnt even care that his hand carved indian wood chopping board was permanently stained, or that the meat was contaminated, or that the blood trickled a little too quick over his floor, only that her eyes seemed suddenly far away as she did nothing to stop the cut gaping. It had caught her in a trance, one she was not even aware she had been sucked into until he grabbed a towel and headed for her.

“Emily, no! Emily please, I need medical in here, we have an agent down! Emily, please, please don’t, please- Someone get medical, she’s bleeding-”

David’s hands grabbed a hold of her bloodied palm, wrapping it tightly in the cloth, so harshly it knocked her out of the daze she was in, dragged her out from the last time there was blood all over her hand, when it had been Emily’s blood, when she could do nothing but freeze like she had now.

“I’m fine,” She said on a reflex, even though he hadn’t asked, he had just acted, pulling her towards the cupboard where he kept the first aid kit, “David, I’m totally fine, it’s just a little scratch,”

“You have to let me go,” Emily had gasped. "Let me go, Bug,"

“David, I’m fine, stop worrying,” She said again when she saw him fussing, hoping he couldn't see the way she’d started shaking, and if he had, she wondered if she could play it off as the adrenaline rushing to fix the wound.

She knew she was on thin ice with the lot of them after her talk with Aaron. Like he said, they were her family, and family’s took care of one another. She couldn’t live with herself if she kept burdening them so much, kept them from grieving their partner just as much as she was; she loved them too.

Bugsy was trying to get better, she really was. Sometimes it was just a little difficult, like now when she could still see Emily’s butchered body infront of her as if she were little more than that joint of pork she’d been julienning.

“It’s okay to get hurt sometimes, kid. You don’t have to lie and pretend it doesn’t hurt if it does,” David said, sitting her back on the breakfast table, holding the bloodied cloth up where he was unravelling a spool of bandage and some rubbing alcohol.

She shut up then, and she wondered if she was really that see through or if David was just that good at his job. They stayed silent, except for the moan of pain she let out when he doused her hand in the solution, pulling the skin closed tightly and wrapping it taut enough for her to feel her heartbeat in her fingertips.

“It’s okay if you need a little help once in a while,” He continued, his movements gentle and careful, worried he’d spook her with the first real conversation they’d had in a long time. Rossi had always been closer to Emily than he had her, and maybe it was the fact he lost the few chances he had to be a father, or just the fact she reminded him so much of her older sister, but being with her felt like part of the wound in his chest was the one being treated. “Rather than being afraid to ask for help, remember this: When you ask someone to help you, you are actually doing them a tremendous favour by giving them an opportunity to feel needed.”

“Is that a David Rossi original, or did you get that from one of your self help books?” She sniffed, hoping he didn’t see the way her expression had fallen, or her throat caught with an apology, or how she hid it with a small smile.

“Richard Carlson.” He replied, pinning the end of the bandage in tight enough it wouldn’t snag. He sighed, looking at the girl who started guiltily at her fingers, reaching behind her for the corkscrew, “I’ll go get the Sauvignon, you order us a pizza. Just please god, no pineapple, that’s just as bad as instant noodles in my books. That’s like asking Da Vinci about bitcoin, it’s madness,”

And that was the first time she properly laughed in weeks.

While Derek was more than equipped to schmoozing the ladies when he wanted a date with them, he had not been ready for this when he’d asked Bugsy to go to the club with him.

She had been doing better, Rossi had said. She had seemed stronger, that was what Hotch had told him. Spencer said they’d even gone for coffee together. He left out the part where it felt awkward and almost like they were seeing an ex, though that of course would be impossible, because they were never dating. At least as far as he knew anyway.

It had been going fine, they’d gotten two rounds of drinks, had been chatting and she’d even been giggling the more the alcohol hit her. She was looking more like she used to, and it almost all felt like a horrible dream hearing from the rest of the team the state she was in.

He’d turned his back for a second, for two damn seconds, and she’d been whisked away by some frat boy, and come back to him with a crazy happy look in her eye that he didn’t notice until an hour later.

“Where did you go, kid?” He’d asked, and she’d shrugged like it was nothing.

“Needed the bathroom,” She said, and he hadn’t even noticed it was a lie until the light struck her eye for more than a couple seconds and he saw just how dilated her pupils were, like the blackness swallowed her iris whole, and the way she buzzed on the spot with more energy than she’d had in months.

She was supposed to be getting better, and she was trying, really she was.

But she couldn’t stop seeing the blood on her hand, couldn’t stop seeing Emily’s face now she could actually sleep again.

Spencer was half way through his fourth re-read of War and Peace, in its original Russian translation, when he got the knock on the door.

It was 10pm, he muttered to himself, who was bothering him at this time.

But of course, as luck would have it, it was the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about, the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about for the past three years.

“Spencerrrrrrr!” She chirped, and immediately alarm bells were ringing in his head, her fingers linked with Morgan’s as if he’d all but pulled her to his apartment from the cab.

She wasn’t stumbling, and she smelled a little like alcohol, but not so much that her inhibitions would be completely destroyed, so he knew it wasn’t that. And Derek looked guilty, a serious kind of guilty like he’d suggested they take a drive on a motorbike with no helmet, or go chasing unsubs unarmed.

It wasn’t until she flung her arms over his shoulders, and he’d pulled her inside, Morgan following behind with a nervous clear of his throat that he realised what it was.

“Spencerrrr, I missed you! I missed you so much, Spencer!” And usually he’d love the way she said his name, but this time it was tainted, too false, too electrified. It barely even sounded like her, he hated the way his heart still pounded out of his chest at the fact she pressed herself so close in that little clubbing top of hers, those tight jeans.

“What did she take?” He ignored her little hums of a song he couldn’t hear, the way she pushed herself even further into his body in a way he knew too well felt like a warm hug throughout her entire being. “Morgan!”

Spencer had never snapped at him, not since his own days on whatever it was he was doing, and Morgan ran a hand over his face as she nuzzled her nose into his neck.

“I don’t know, I swear. I turned my back for two seconds to get us another drink, and next thing I know this senior is hitting on her and she’s shoving gum in her mouth and coming back towards the bar- I don’t know what it was, I swear I thought it was gum, man,” Derek rushed, hating the look of desperation in Spencer’s eyes as he yanked her away from him with a small mewl of protest from her mouth.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, look at me,” He murmured, and she did, and he saw almost immediately the way her pupils were the size of saucers when she stared at him, crazed and intoxicated, “Do you remember what you took? I need to know so I can keep you safe,”

“You always keep me safe, so safe with Spencer,” She giggled to herself, trying to pull him back to her, but he wouldn’t budge, not until he got a real answer, “Come on, I’m going to be fine, it was just a little Molly, nothing to worry about. Kid even gave me a half for like ten dollars because he said I was reeeeeal pretty. Do you think I’m pretty Spence? I think you’re pretty, I think you’re super pretty,”

They felt themselves sigh in relief, because while still a drug, half of one pill shouldn’t really do much, especially if it was the cheap stuff going around frat houses that the DEA was having a field day with.

Morgan looked at Spencer, where he let her shove her face against him once more, wrapping his arms around her back and feeling her sigh in relief that she was back there under his warm touch, and they shared the same thought.

This never happened.

Because if it did, it meant opening a can of worms Spencer had tried for years to shut tight. It meant acknowledging that the reason Morgan came to him and no one else was because he knew Spencer would know how to handle her when she was coming down in an hour or so. It meant acknowledging why Spencer would know that, and why they hadn’t acknowledged it the first time around. It meant their jobs would be on the line, and so was hers, and as much as she was struggling at the moment, they knew she just slipped up, and that this wasn’t who she was. They knew she could be better, that Spencer would force her to get better, because if the only other option was having her turn into who he used to be, then he was handing in his notice first thing Monday morning.

That wasn’t an option in Spencer’s books, nor was it in Morgan’s.

So Morgan left with a little pat on the back of her head, claiming she was a little troublemaker, though he hadn’t quite sounded as teasing as he’d intended and more bitter, and leaving Spencer with her to minimise the damage.

Bugsy let him lead her to the spare room that once was hers, but she didn’t quite care enough to say anything other than, “I missed you so much,” As she pushed her face into his neck more.

He sighed, sitting her down on the bed, knowing where she’d left some of her makeup wipes in his bathroom.

“Stay right here, I’ll be right back,” But she whined again, making a grab for his hand, which he quickly avoided, feeling mean for it the moment he saw her face scrunch in hurt. He stroked her hair behind her ear, watching her melt under his touch, and it almost felt like nothing had changed, like she had never moved out, and like she hadn’t just burst back into his life after popping a bit of molly and turning his evening upside down, “I missed you so much, too, Bug,”

And he wasn’t lying. Not even a little bit.

She looked up at him with those dazed pupils, as big as dimes as they batted up at him dreamily, and some awful part of him always wanted her to be looking at him like that, like everything he ever did in his life was perfect and he was a god among men. Like she was seeing her favourite movie for the first time on the big screen, when in reality he was just wiping her makeup off her face and handing her spare clothes to change into so she could sleep off the come down.

It wasn’t until he tried to leave again to go get her some water that she put up a real fight, one that couldn’t be fought off with a gentle touch (he tried), and she was quick to grab his wrist, tug him closer to her.

“Bug, I’m getting you-”

“Come lay down with me, let’s talk. I love talking to you, why haven’t we talked in so long?” She said like every barrier she ever put up had come tumbling down and her mouth was a free for all for her every thought.

Spencer smiled despite himself, his honeycomb eyes soft as he shuffled to lay beside her, and they stared at one another, heads against the same pillow, and she looked soft than an angel laying on his bed waiting for a response. She looked happy for the first time in a long time, and he hated how much it suited her.

“You moved out, remember, bug? You said you wanted to go home and I didn’t want to stop you,” He said gently, like he didn’t want to upset her. But she just giggled and shook her head like he’d told her a joke.

“Oh, yeah. But I didn’t really want to go home. I wanted to be with you. I want to be with you forever,” Bugsy giggled to herself, wiggling her toes inside her socks and running a finger up his arm gently as she lay on her side, “I missed you so much,”

His brow furrowed, “What do you mean you didn’t want to go home?” But she wasn’t listening, she was tracing over his face with her fingertip, running over his nose gently, past his full lips that quivered under her touch, “Bug,”

“Hm?”

“What do you mean you didn’t want to go home? Why did you leave?” He asked again, and she looked back up at him with a shrug, shuffling closer to him, so close he could feel her breath fan over his cheeks.

“I thought here with you was my home. I wanted it to be.” She said, her fingers finding their way into his nightshirt, “But I felt too guilty being so sad all the time, like I was getting my sad all over you and you couldn’t do anything about it because I was the loser girl with the dead sister you had to look after,”

His eyes burned with emotion, and he willed himself not to cry, because suddenly it made sense why she had pulled away so fast. She looked at him like he’d hung the damn cosmos in the sky; had he not even paid attention to the letter she’d written Emily. She felt like she was dragging him down, the way she felt about everyone in her life, and decided to cut herself free before she took him with her. And look where that had landed her.

He felt like a fool.

“No, no,” Spencer whispered, pulling her into his arms, because he was scared that come morning she would take a million steps back and up and leave him all over again, “That’s not true, that could never happen, you hear me? I liked taking care of you, I wanted to take care of you.”

“Really?” She asked hopefully, her face soft and dream-like, “I liked taking care of you too, when you would let me,”

It was true he had tried to push his own feelings on the back burner, besides the few times the dam had cracked and he wound up with his head in her lap receiving the brunt of the affection that evening. He didn’t know why he ever doubted she would have wanted to do that; when he had his migraines she had done nothing but love on him until he felt full to the brim of her warmth.

He felt himself chuckle, and she shuffled entirely into his arms then squashing out any last molecule of space left between them, and his hand slid over the back of her head, fingers rubbing softly into the nape of her neck which only made her moan loudly, entirely unaware of how sensitive her skin was from the molly.

“That feels nice, Spencer,” She hummed, her thighs straddling his own as she squished herself against him more, “You feel so nice, I love you so much.”

He would be lying if he said the sounds she was making didn’t shoot straight to his dick, and hoped more than anything that she couldn’t feel how it pressed against his stomach angrily. His heart beat rattled loudly, and he swore she had to be able to hear it.

“I love you too,” Spencer sighed, wishing he could have said this to her sober. Wishing she wouldn’t shut him out so easily, wishing he’d pushed her walls a little harder.

Then she did something he wasn’t expecting. It took all of two seconds for him to close his eyes and hum in content, where her hands were playing with the soft of his waist, and his fingertips stroked her jaw gently, but in a quick movement she planted her lips on his in a soft, sweet peck that he barely had time to register was happening before he pulled away in shock.

She kissed him. She had kissed him.

And he wanted her so badly, wanted her in every way it was possible to have someone, wanted to kiss her so hard his face went blue and his lips went numb and his throat burned with lack of oxygen. But he would never dare do anything when she was like this; vulnerable, intoxicated, unaware that the pill she’d taken had acted like a truth serum.

“We’re so silly,” Bugsy giggled, and for a moment she looked twenty two again, like the girl that had answered the door to him in college in nothing but her boxers and a shirt, with her metal music playing so loud he could hear it ringing in his ears minutes after she’d switched it off. She looked like his Bugsy again.

Spencer chuckled with her incredulously, feeling his face on fire from her action, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest that had been immovable for months, because as hard as her come down would hit her, things seemed different now, like they actually had a kicking chance of getting through the grief together.

But before he could say anything else, her eyes had fluttered shut under the warmth of his palm, and she had drifted off to sleep.

He guessed he’d have to tell her tomorrow.

–

taglist:

@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions@the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @sadbae-33

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #matthew grey gubler x reader

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stevesbipanic · 2 months

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@steddielovemonth Day 24: Love is the only thing we can take with us.

@thefreakandthehair

Steve looked around his room, it would be the last time he did. He could hear his parents still arguing downstairs. He knew he didn't have a lot of time, soon he'd hear his father's footsteps coming up the stairs.

"You're no son of mine!"

Steve hadn't felt like his son in a long time anyway. When he thought of dads he thought of Hopper at his graduation or Wayne watching the game with him. He'd called Hopper, Dad, when he woke up in the hospital and saw the previously dead police chief at his bedside. No, Steve Harrington hadn't been Richard Harrington's son in a long time.

He knew he didn't have much time, but he'd been planning for this moment, the day they would find out. It was inevitable, small town, nosy neighbours. Steve kept his room impersonal for a reason, it wouldn't last forever. Kneeling quickly he grabbed his box, it was all he would need.

The clothes he actually liked wearing weren't in this closet anymore, the beemer had always been in his name. Nothing else in the house mattered but this box. The last piece of Steve in these four walls.

"Steven?"

He'd asked her to call him Steve all his life, she didn't.

"Can't you see what you're doing to your mother?"

Maria Harrington hadn't been Steve's mother in a long time. Mothers were there for their kids when they woke up from nightmares. Claudia never judged when he woke up screaming on the couch. A true mother looked after their son when he was sick in bed, soup and comfort and love. Joyce brought him soup last winter, when the flu had him stuck in bed, he didn't even call, she just knew.

"I know, I'm leaving now."

"Please, Steven, there are places we can go to fix you," she cried. Mothers don't think their kid's heart needs fixing.

"You were supposed to be a real man!" Richard yelled as he passed him down the stairs. Fathers are proud of their sons growing into protectors and carers.

"This will never be your home again!" Was the last thing Steve heard as he closed his car door and placed the small box on the passenger seat. Parents always have a home waiting for you, even when they think you're wrong.

"Steve?"

Wayne is the first one to spot him as he arrives at the trailer. It's sunday, family dinner at the rotating family table. Tonight was meant to be at the Munsons.

"Steve, honey? You ok?" Joyce is the first one to touch him, worry in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, son." Hopper is the first one to read his teary eyes like a book. They all knew where he'd been.

Claudia gingerly took the box from him, "I'll put this in your room, sweetheart, let Eddie know you're back home."

Steve could hear the kids yelling around the picnic table outside; could smell dinner cooking. Robins laughter piercing though the air and Eddie's boombox playing loudly.

"Baby?"

There he was.

"Hey, Eds, think we'll have to move up that moving date, if it's ok?"

Eddie's features softened from worry to sympathy, "Course, sunshine, although I'm still surprised Joyce and Hop didn't kidnap you months ago.

Later, when he'd given everyone hugs goodbye, some were a bit tighter than others, he sat on the bed with his box.

"You wanna unpack that alone, or want help?"

"You can look, it's not a secret, just special," Steve replied, patting the space next to him. Eddie plopped himself down beside his boyfriend, lifting the lid.

Inside was a mess of bits and pieces. Eddie reached in and took out a stack of photos. Steve at his graduation, a big smile with Hopper's arm around his shoulders, Dustin beaming beside him. Robin putting Steve in a headlock at the quarry last summer, he refuses to say he let her win. Eddie at his first show back, scars on full display. And countless other memories.

There were also little toys from the arcade and pebbles and ticket stubs and letters and a full life story of one Steve Harrington told through the love of his family.

"This was all I went back to get, all I needed. Wasn't expecting them to know about you already, but I knew they'd find out one day. Couldn't let them have this, not after they spent so long trying to take my heart from me."

"I think it's high time we clear some space around here for all this, Stevie, time to let your love be out on full display."

When Steve fell asleep that night, wrapped in the arms of a boy who went to hell from him and staring at the new photos on the wall, he truly felt home.

#i hope u enjoyed lex #this got away from me #half these love month prompts is me character studying steve #and i will not be shamed for it #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve has bad parents #but he has great parents elsewhere #ficlet #steddielovemonth

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harrysloveboat · 8 months

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John B’s Girl | JJ Maybank Fic

Summary: JJ Maybank was absolutely screwed. So detrimentally screwed. John B was going to actually end him. The blonde haired surfer had a thing for his best friend’s girl, (Y/N) Cameron. And when JJ notices something he shouldn’t, all bets are off.

Word Count: 6.8K, (18+, Minors DNI, Mature Audience)

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, choking, semi-public sex, cheating, dirty talking, thigh riding, car sex, mention of toys, alcohol, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), degrading, Dark!JJ, JJxReader, John BxReader, Cameron!Reader, sprinkles of fluff included, I think I might’ve made Dark!John B too by accident, etc.

Please read warnings before continuing. Really tempted to make a second part if anyone wants it! The ending kinda makes me think a second part is just necessary. Mostly unedited.

Constructive criticism and requests open on my page. I write about Harry, 5SOS, Outer Banks, and TSITP! Thank you x

It’s been an entire week of watching (Y/N) Cameron unraveling before JJ’s blue eyes.

JJ has no idea how the girl got herself into this predicament, and he certainly doesn’t understand how he’s been the only one out of his friends to notice what’s been going on between John B and his girlfriend.

Actually he does understand why, but he refuses to admit it. How could he ever come clean about the way his body ached when she was near? Or how his heart thumped out of his chest when she would accidentally brush her bare skin against his during hot summer days on the H.M.S. Pogue. Even the tender way she’d brush loose strands of blonde hair from his forehead in passing would send shocks of electricity to every corner of his body.

But this annoyingly long week was painfully different from the rest.

(Y/N) had done something on Monday.

JJ wasn’t sure what, but he knew something she had done had sent John B off the deep end. Because for the whole day, John B wouldn’t spare a kind glance her way. No matter how many times she’d initiate a conversation, nudge his arm, intertwine their hands, or even sit on his lap, John B was an absolute rock. His responses were short and curt and his eyes would focus on anything but her.

The next day is when John B really enacted his revenge.

(Y/N) was doing everything she could to get back into his good graces. That morning, she woke up early to stop at the grocery store. Buying so many things that JB’s fridge was fully stocked when she returned.

Breakfast was her first attempt. There was bacon crisping in the oven, sending a mouthwatering aroma to every Pogue in The Chateau. She was scrambling eggs on the stovetop for everyone, with a smaller pan on the side that contained eggs with cheese. By the time the toast was popping out of the toaster oven, everyone had come alive with growling stomachs.

JJ and Pope had dug right in, surprised but also very wonderfully pleased by the first home cooked meal they’d had in a while. Kie had given her a big hug first, requesting that (Y/N) wake her up next time to lend her a hand. But even as John B was served his favorite eggs with cheese for just him, he gave them the tiniest nibble, before pushing his plate away.

“Not hungry,” he shrugged moving on to a refreshing morning shower instead with even as much as a sympathetic glance back.

Kie and Pope were lost in conversation, but JJ had been a witness to it all. More than anything, he noticed the way her entire demeanor deflated as John B stalked off. The excited glint in her eyes was extinguished in haste. The crinkles at the corner of her eyes vanished alongside her smile. His heart squeezed at the sight. JJ had wanted nothing more than to scoop her up in his arms and pepper her with millions of soft, thankful kisses. Nothing she could’ve done would’ve been enough for JJ to evoke the same reaction out of her if she was his.

That afternoon, however, is when things took a completely opposite direction.

Energized by their hearty breakfast, they all decided it was a perfect sunny day to do some fishing and swimming. Kie and Pope had canonballed into the clear blue water when it happened. JJ was grabbing a beer from the cooler as (Y/N) sat next to John B who was laying on a towel, perched at the front of the boat.

She had leaned down to speak something privately into his ear. Except he shook his head, face devoid of any emotion. “You’ve been a bad girl (Y/N). You don’t deserve any attention,” his hushed dismissal was the only thing JJ managed to catch. The pout on her plump lips and furrowed eyebrows told JJ everything he needed to know. The gears clicked together in his head almost too quickly.

(Y/N), out of all people, had a praise kink that John B was currently exploiting.

The realization went straight to his crotch, his swimming trunks horribly constricting for the entire day. It made so much sense. She aimed to please, getting so excited when someone was happy with something she did. He honestly felt foolish for not catching on sooner. If someone asked JJ if he jacked off to her sweet voice begging him to destroy her in his imagination, he would immediately deny it.

By Wednesday, JJ was hooked.

There was no conversation that could capture his focus for long. Every moment of his time was devoted to her. The urges JJ had to rush to her and be her new source of comfort were becoming overwhelming but so was the need to bend her over any flat surface. He was on the verge of being diagnosed as bipolar with the amount of times his mood would swing. Every disheartened expression or bite of a lip had JJ physically twitching to remedy her frustration. But anytime she’d sit on John B’s lap and search for forgiveness with gentle touches and suggestive whispers, JJ would have to excuse himself to hide the new semi he was sporting.

(Y/N) and John B cuddled together during a movie night on Thursday evening. JJ thought for a split second that (Y/N) had finally wormed her way through John B’s walls. It didn’t even make sense to him how his best friend had managed to hold out for so long when she was completely irresistible. A little part of him was curious to know what she had done that originally started this. What had angered JB enough to drag this punishment out? By the relaxed tone throughout the movie, he figured he’d never get the answer to that question. At least he’d be able to go back to regular conversations instead of consistently excusing himself to the restroom.

But of course, JJ never seems to catch a break.

Kie had disappeared from the living room at some point to sleep in the guest bedroom. Choosing a comfortable bed over morning neck pain. Pope was on the couch, mouth drooling onto the cushion that was propped under his head. JJ had been basically forced into the sleeping bag on the floor with one measly pillow. Aside from the discomfort of the wooden floor, he had managed to fall into a deep sleep. There was a sudden noise lulling him awake.

Soft, harsh pants stirred him from his dreams.

The movie was still playing on the screen, but the volume had been turned down to leave background noise. Even with the quiet chatter, JJ heard the distinct, “please John B,” that fell from (Y/N)‘s lips followed by an angry scoff. His blue eyes peeked open, just the slightest bit, only to feel like he could pass out from what was occurring on the single seat next to the couch.

(Y/N) was sitting on John B’s thigh, hips grinding down at a rapid pace to chase her end. All the while JB was focused on the screen not paying any mind to the horny girl riding him. JJ could see the wet stains on her cheeks, beads of sweat falling down her forehead. She was moving with urgency, obviously close to her orgasm.

“Can’t believe you have the audacity to beg me to touch you after what you did,” John B muttered furiously in response to her. The only crack in his hard interior that let JJ know he was affected by (Y/N)’s actions was the tight grip at her hip. His other hand was lazily holding the remote on the beige armrest to exaggerate his disinterest. “I’m sorry- I’m so sorry,” she pleaded as her hips faltered. The closer she got to her end, the haze in her mind would betray her. Slowing her movements just as she was on the verge of falling into the abyss and traitorously bringing her back.

He snicked at her, feeling her feeble attempts to get herself off on his thigh. She had wet through her panties hours ago, drenching John B’s thigh and the inner corners of hers. Her apologies were falling on deaf ears. “I’m not helping you. You’re lucky I’m even letting you cum when you’ve been such a bad girl. Sluts like you don’t deserve it.” His filthy words were what did it. Instead of being put off by them, the quickening of her pace and quiet whine that escaped her lips let JJ know that she enjoyed being degraded.

(Y/N)’s movement came to a sharp halt, thighs squeezing around John B as her orgasm washed over her in waves. Her entire body tensed up, face twisting in pleasure. Underneath the over-sized t-shirt her shoulders shook slightly. For the sake of not being caught by the others, it took all her strength to keep the noises at bay while threatening to spill over at any given moment. JJ thinks he might be the one to beg to hear those sounds next. She collapsed against him, scratching at his chest with a small cry when he grinded up against her overstimulated pussy.

JJ didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

He found himself in the shower again hours later, fisting his cock repeatedly until he was cumming harder than he ever thought he could.

Friday night was finally the last nail hammered into his coffin.

The party was booming, every Kook, Pogue, and Touron joining together for an epic get together at the Boneyard. Alcohol was influencing the rager, people dancing around the bonfire with high spirits. They had all ridden in the Twinkie together but gradually dispersed throughout the night. Pope was trying, and failing, to flirt with a brown-haired Touron who was too drunk to understand. She was cute but clueless. Kie was dancing in the crowd with John B, enjoying the music and winding down from an eventful day at The Wreck. She was oblivious to the fact that the nonchalant guy in front of her wasn’t paying a lick of attention.

JJ was leaning against a palm tree, crushing a can of beer in his hand. He had been in a fowl mood all day, snapping at everyone over the smallest of inconveniences. He couldn’t help it, nothing he had done was able to satisfy his persistent hard-on. Any time (Y/N) was within his eyesight, even momentarily, all the blood would rush down between his legs. Every hair flip made JJ want to grab it into a ponytail and tug hard. Inches of exposed skin silently requesting to be marked by his teeth. JJ was so sexually frustrated that he was honestly considering taking some girl home tonight.

The idea was tempting as his blue irises raked through the crowd. There were some good options available. Sophie, his old friends with benefits, had been eyeing him all night. A red haired girl had flirted with him when he retrieved his second beer. Shit there was even a drunk Kook that had been throwing herself at him if push came to shove. Still, none of them were what he actually craved deep in his bones. Subconsciously, JJ found the girl he had been really after.

(Y/N) was seated on a log in front of the fire wearing a white flowy dress that ended at the middle of her thighs. It had two straps at the top that tied behind her neck. She was free of make-up, her natural features mesmerizing JJ even from a distance. Her silky hair was blowing past her shoulders in the soft night breeze.

The fire lit up her face with hues of red and orange. Her head was tilted up slightly, eyes sealed shut. She seemed distracted, mind far away from the craziness surrounding her. JJ’s head shifted to the side in curiosity as he noted the odd behavior. He watched as (Y/N) pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down harshly. Her hands had a death-like grip on the wood below her. Something was clearly wrong.

A surge of worry passed by JJ, wondering if the girl was okay. This week had been rougher on her than any of the other Pogues knew. He was the only one besides John B that was aware of the inner turmoil she was experiencing. This meant, Kie, (Y/N)’s best friend and confidante wasn’t clued into this secret that JJ had unintentionally stumbled upon. There was no way she could know the girl needed somebody. Deciding that he needed to take it upon himself to check up on her, JJ’s legs moved before his brain did.

He took a couple of strides in her direction with no decipherable sentence coming to mind. JJ had to think a little more instead of acting on a whim. He found comfort for his nerves in the red hat being snugly placed on his hair backwards before finally sitting down next to her. “Hey, you okay?” JJ’s tone held more compassion than usual, opting to rip off the band aid. Their normal playful banter was replaced by genuine emotion that JJ was struggling to contain.

(Y/N) didn’t even notice him sit until his voice was bringing her back from the pleasure she was floating off into. Her eyes were dark, filled with lust as they landed on JJ’s. Now that he was actually sitting next to her, able to properly focus and analyze her behavior, the color drained from his face as he became all too aware. Her thighs were pressed together tightly, nails digging into the wood. (Y/N) was breathing heavily, vibrations from the plug John B had inserted before leaving The Chateau were teasing her. Her boyfriend held the remote to the stupid thing and he had been turning it off and on all night. Sometimes she’d be in a casual conversation and have to excuse herself because he’d purposefully turn on the highest setting. Even making her spill a little bit of beer down her chin in front of Kie.

By now, (Y/N) was desperate. She was squirming in her seat, holding back the pornographic moans this device had taken her to. After withholding sex from her the entire week and choosing to insert this new toy he had purposefully disappeared earlier to buy, she was like a rabid animal. The intensity of repeatedly being brought to the brink and then cut off had broken any sense of normalcy she had managed to maintain. The fiery passion in her eyes was undeniable. “I-I’m okay- yeah,” (Y/N) practically squeaked out, one hand moving to crumble the hem of her dress in a fist.

John B was insatiable from where he stood. Although he was well aware of the state he had led his girlfriend into, just the sight of JJ sitting next to her set him off. His hand reached into his jean pocket, clasping the cheap plastic and turning on the max speed with several clicks to the plus sign on the right. It was stupid and idiotic, but the jealousy that flared didn’t let him act clearly.

(Y/N) tried to contain a gasp as her body jumped slightly at the sudden change. She knew exactly what John B was doing. He was marking his territory in front of JJ, who by the look in his face obviously knew what was going on. Without an inkling about how JJ felt, John B was still going out of his way to prove (Y/N) was his. Making her cum inches away from his best friend.

JJ knew it. Saw her eyes roll to the back, her mouth drop open and nose scrunch up. The pleasure overcame her body. The orgasm ripped through her body after being edged for so long. Her toes curled as John B forced her to ride out her high in front of him with no mercy. She was unable to hide the twitch of her thighs. Tears from the pleasure mixed in with embarrassment. JJ was frozen, rock solid in his cargo shorts. His face gave nothing away except his acknowledgment of the situation. The words to describe the hunger he felt had yet to be invented. At the same time his outrage at John B’s intentional deed simmered over.

The tension in the air was palpable with deafening silence consuming them. There was no ounce of awkwardness with the way both of them were stuck in their heads. She swallowed hard, looking away as her bottom lip trembled. Seeing as John B had no intentions of turning it off, only lowering the setting, she chose to retreat. There was no explanation that could hide or sugarcoat the truth. (Y/N) got up muttering an unintelligible excuse before she was disappearing behind the fire with a walk of shame.

JJ’s entire body was hot with adrenaline and need. A primal need to fuck the girl into oblivion was no longer in his control. The pure desire radiating off her body had pushed JJ past the boundary of respect. John B smirking victoriously towards Kie did nothing to aid JJ, only encouraged him to follow in the path that (Y/N) had headed towards.

She had found safety next to the Twinkie, crying freely into the crease of her elbow against the window. The vibrator was still going, overstimulating her yet she knew better than to take it out without being told to. John B had gone too far, giving in to the green eyed monster that veered his head. Her body was almost clinging to the van at this point when calloused fingers ran up the back of her thigh.

The warm touch alerted her to the presence of somebody behind her. (Y/N)’s back arched slightly on instinct, finally getting what she was craving. She felt so depraved, so starved. Just a simple graze had goosebumps spreading like wildfire. “John B- please- I-I can’t anymore. Take it out,” she cried pathetically, begging for some form of release.

JJ groaned at the tone of her voice, so ready and desperate. It was taking all his willpower to not bend her over right now and ram himself inside of her. Without speaking, his hand continued to travel up her thigh painfully slow. In her daze she missed the hesitancy in the touch that would’ve been hasty and quick had it been John B. His eyes were trained on the dress that was hiking up, exposing a delicious set of red lace panties. Precum stained his boxers just from the sight. JJ grabbed a handful of her ass cheek tightly, reveling in the way she pushed her ass out to him and whined.

“I’m gonna warn you right now (Y/N). If I’m the one that takes it out, I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’re going to forget what his name is,” JJ growled into her ear, hot breath washing over her hypersensitive skin. (Y/N) recognized the voice immediately, feeling the cold rings that belonged to this particular Pogue cooling her ass through the pain of the grip. Her forehead fell onto the window, a pitiful whimper responding to JJ’s offer. It was wrong, so so wrong. But the bulge pressing into her ass had her eyes fluttering shut.

JJ’s logic had quite literally left planet Earth. The only thing on his mind was her. The fear of rejection wasn’t even present. His hand confidently found a home in the curve of her hip, squeezing it tightly as he ground his cock into her ass pushing her further against the van. They both moaned, any hesitation fully dissipating with the wind.

“Take it out- take it out JJ,” she gasped, his name sounding like heaven as it fell from her lips. His new mission was to hear her scream it. JJ moved with newfound purpose, flipping her over harshly before he crouched down. “Hold your dress up and spread your legs,” the dominant tone of JJ’s voice sent a new rush of slickness down her thighs.

This was JJ, her boyfriends best friend, pulling down her panties in one swift move and licking his lips ready to devour her. “JJ please,” she was so vocal, feeding into his own filthy nature. What really almost made him cum in his black boxers was the sight before him. Her pussy was glistening, wrapped tightly around the softly buzzing vibrator. Her clit was swollen, puckering and aching. He licked his lips, imprinting this image in his brain.

JJ grabbed onto the end of it, teasingly pulling it out of her and back in which earned him a breathless moan. Her hips pushed down against it automatically, chasing the feeling. “You’ve been such a good girl all night, taking it so well,” JJ’s words had her free hand gripping the handle to the door. Without even letting her process it, his fingers were replacing the vibrator which found solace in JJ’s back pocket.

He shoved two fingers in deep, coating them with her previous orgasm in a matter of seconds. JJ nudged every corner, hitting every spot reachable in this position. He moved with skill, determination clear in the way his lips wrapped around her nub and sucked. (Y/N)’s breath was knocked out of her lungs at the sensation. Her jaw slacks from the pleasure as the spark at the pit of her belly grows into an untamable fire. JJ moved like a man who needed this to survive. He flattened his tongue against her clit, the tip poking into the entrance where his fingers were sliding in and out with ease. Finally tasting her sweetness forced a moan to ripple through him and into her.

(Y/N)’s head fell back against the window hard enough to hurt and yet she didn’t feel it at all. All her senses were hyper focused on the man between her legs. Each flicker of his tongue would make her knees go out. She would’ve been on the ground already had it not been for JJ’s hand digging into her thigh to keep her up as well as open. A particular curve of his finger had a high pitched noise tumbling out. JJ didn’t miss a beat, continuing with a new rhythm as he memorized what made her walls clench around him.

“I-I’m gonna- JJ, fuck,” she couldn’t even finish her sentence but he knew exactly what she was going to say. Everything became blurry, her chest heaving from the change in his movements. The muscles in her thighs tense, attempting to close subconsciously but JJ refuses to let them. His fingers dig into her thigh so hard they’ll be bruises in the shape of his hand tomorrow. Her climax was rapidly approaching, knot tightening in her abdomen.

His tongue circled her relentlessly. Everything wrong with what they were doing secretly inflamed her heat. (Y/N)’s mind went hazy from the increasing thrusts of his fingers. The pleasure exploding inside of her in a gut twisting way. JJ watched her face twist from the blissful waves causing her eyes to close. The intensity made her mind go blank as a string of curses were spoken. He forced her to ride out her high by lapping up everything that landed on his tongue. He savored the taste, unforgivingly continuing until her body was shaking from the stimulation.

(Y/N) didn’t even get a break. She was unable to catch a breath with JJ’s merciless assault. Her hand moved from the door to his head, pushing the cap off in favor of grabbing his blonde hair. He finally eased up when he was satisfied, pulling his mouth away and not hesitating to lick his lips. “Taste so fucking good princess,” JJ breathed out while his fingers gradually came to a stop. She squeezed his hair, a whimper coming out. It was hard to believe this was JJ Maybank below her, eyes gleaming after eating her out alive.

He stood up, moving the hand that had left imprints to fist her loose hair and tilt her head up. “Suck it off my fingers,” he demanded. The authoritative tone left her with no option but to open her mouth. Her tongue slipped between the two fingers sucking them clean without breaking eye contact. JJ’s already darkening eyes were pitch black now, hints of blue disappearing at her eagerness.

“You like that don’t you? Sucking your cum off my fingers. Wonder how your little boyfriend would feel if he saw you right now,” JJ taunted her. Tears brimmed the edges of her eyes but her thighs moved to shut. JJ’s knee shot out before they could, grinding up against her overly sensitive mound. He was rewarded with a delicious moan that reminded him of his leaking member that was still trapped. “Say it princess. Whose gonna fuck you and make you cum a second time in a row?” The fingers that were in her mouth moved to wrap around her throat. He gave her the freedom to speak, his forehead dangerously close to hers. Their lips could meet if she moved just a little closer. The curiosity to find out what kissing him would feel like distracted her. The soft squeeze at her throat broke her out of the trance, reminding her to respond.

(Y/N) nodded for no reason, hips pushing down against JJ’s thigh to show how much she still wanted him. “You JJ. You’re gonna fuck me and make me cum again. Please- want it so bad, want your cock inside of me,” the neediness in her tone sent JJ into a frenzy. No imagination could come close to the real thing. His neck shot forward, their lips molding together in a passionate kiss. They moved in sync while JJ’s hand slid down, pulling at the strings of her dress to undo the knot in a swift move. His hand skimmed further down, kneading and squeezing every inch of her skin from her curves to her ass.

She was mewling in his mouth, every caress weakening her. It was hard to feel guilty with the way the rough pads of his fingers ran across her scorching hot skin. Her hands moved to unbutton his shorts falling prey to her desires. “Need it J,” the sincerity is what snapped him back into action.

JJ untangled their bodies to open the Twinkie, taking her hand so that she was standing in front of him and could go in first. Without saying it, he placed his palm at the center of her back. A soft push let her know to get onto all fours on the soft fabric of the seats. The van door slammed shut behind them before he was shoving his clothes off with urgency. A thought lit up like a light bulb inside his head as he finished undressing.

“If you want me to give you what needy sluts like you deserve, you need to answer my question,” JJ stated seriously as his hands tucked under the top of her dress. Now with the strap off, he was able to peel off the dress from top to bottom. The panties that had only been able to reach her mid thigh before JJ lost it, slipped off alongside the dress. Confusion settled into (Y/N)’s expression. Her right cheek was pressed into the seat, only getting a small glimpse of JJ’s face. “I’ll answer anything JJ please,” the apprehension as to what the question could be was drowned out by the throbbing between her legs. The anticipation was eating her alive and he was on an unholy plight to push every single one of her buttons.

JJ smirked devilishly while leaning down to press his bare chest against her back. His cock was standing up, solid from days of built up tension. He slid between her wet folds, earning moans from the both of them. “What did you do that made John B so mad?” He whispered into her ear before resting his forehead on the back of her head. His lips ghosted over the skin at the nape of her neck sending chills down her spine. It took a moment for her to put together what he was saying. The realization dawned on her face, unable to admit what he wanted to hear. JJ’s suspicion grew with the way her breathing stuttered.

“Doesn’t matter J, just fuck me,” she attempted to sway him away from the topic but being told to ignore it only made him more persistent. “Ah, ah,” he tsked in a disapproving tone. JJ moved his hips to continue teasing her, gradually sliding between her lips and get himself wet with all her juices. He’d move so far down that his tip would just barely nudge against her hole and then proceed to slide back. His hands disappeared around (Y/N)’s sides, grabbing hold of her breasts and massaging them roughly. His fingertips found her already hardened nipples, tugging and pulling to get his point across. “You want me to fuck your tight cunt? You’re gonna have to tell me sweet girl. Because I’ll walk away right now.”

(Y/N) whined in frustration. JJ’s attempts to make her comply worked all to well. Her heart was racing with impatience and every nerve ending was shot. She could feel just how long and big he was. It made her tighten pathetically around nothing. She wanted to cry to express the distress she was feeling. His hands played at her nipples, fogging her mind up even further. A high pitched noise waved the white flag as she gave in to his attack. The risk of JJ leaving right now outweighed the shitstorm that inevitably followed the truth. “I flirted with you Sunday night.”

JJ paused, his hope flourishing into fact. What JJ had deemed a concocted idea was in fact more than just a sexually fueled imagination.

(Y/N) walked into the kitchen, hair wet from a recent shower. Despite an exhausting day surfing at the beach, she still managed to walk with a bounce in her step and a smile on her lips. Her attitude was always contagious and distracting. “Hey J, not coming out for the movie?” she questioned, digging into the freezer. All the Pogues were camped out in the living room to watch a new movie while JJ was perched on the counter top with a beer in hand.

He ran his fingers through his hair, watching as she pulled out the last chocolate fudge bar which halted his answer. His eyebrow raised as she whirled around to him. She removed the plastic casing with no rush in the world, before wrapping her plump lips around the bar. JJ’s blue eyes trailed downwards, captivated by the way she bobbed her head up and down in such a suggestive way. Her question was long forgotten with a lick of his dry lips.

“That’s my bar,” JJ stated avoiding a comment on the affect her actions were having on him. He was also technically correct. Nobody else ate the fudge bars except for him. Although, he had been noticing that he was reaching the end of the box quicker than normal. Apparently he discovered the culprit. It was hard to actually take it seriously though, not when he could swear there was a mischievous glint in her eyes. Like she purposefully put on a show for him.

(Y/N) simply tilted her head to side biting her bottom lip. “And what are you going to do about it?” The question was innocent. Yet it sounded so risqué. Like she was tempting him to take it further than that. His muscles twitched to grab her right there. But John B clearing his throat from the kitchen entrance snapped JJ out of whatever that was.

He was too consumed by her lips, her doe eyes, the way her cheeks hollowed around the bar, all of it. JJ had barely noticed John B in that moment. The thought that he might’ve heard or seen anything didn’t even cross JJ’s mind. He just quickly got up and rushed past them to the living room. He had written the whole thing off. It was easier to convince himself that he had probably imagined the whole thing rather than feeding into a delusion where she had actually teased him.

JJ had been so right though. He had read her cues perfectly. Not only had she been flirting with him, but it was also the reason that John B was infuriated. The more he dwelled on the thought, the more his heart thumped louder. They all joked and flirted amongst themselves, John B did with Kie. It was all harmless. So John B getting mad at this moment meant he felt threatened by JJ. Like (Y/N) had given him a reason to worry.

The admission made something snap inside of JJ. A flood of emotions surged forward as the dam he had built to contain them collapsed under the strength of her honesty. He quickly removed his hands from her body to lift himself up. As promised, JJ lined himself up with her slick entrance. Any desire to see her down on her knees would have to be put on hold for next time. There was no way he could put this off any longer. He took just a second to nudge his tip passed the barrier and back to hear the starved whimper that she was unable to hold in. Finding sick pleasure in her shameless need for him. “Please JJ.” Without warning, right after she spoke, he slammed his hips forward. He forget everything except the feeling of being enveloped by velvety tight walls. A loud moan mixed in with a deep groan could be heard from outside the van. He reached deep into her like this, taking her breath away.

The grip around his cock could make him pass out. He muttered an inaudible cuss word, not giving her a second to adjust. JJ pulled out to the tip before shoving himself back inside her and repeating the motion until it grew into a consistent pace. (Y/N) was a broken record of moans and pleas. With every thrust her hips would rut back into him. The anticipation had been replaced with numbing pleasure. Her eyes couldn’t focus on a single thing, completely overwhelmed. His fingers tangled into her hair, shoving her further into the seat.

JJ used the new support to deepen and harden his pace. His hips were jolting into her and sending her forward each time. JJ was failing to hold back, milking every noise out of her sweet lips. The vibrator that was still in the pocket of his shorts that were now located on the floor began to vibrate loudly. JJ smirked viciously, digging into her hip for assistance to ram into her, admiring the way her swollen pussy swallowed his cock in between them. “Do you hear that? John B’s turning up the vibrator while you’re getting stuffed with his best friends cock,” JJ coed before his breath hitched at the tight squeeze his words evoked.

It shouldn’t have turned her on the way it did but she couldn’t help it. Her body reacted before she could. His lewd words reached kinks (Y/N) didn’t even know existed within her. She cried out as his balls slapped against her clit, shooting pangs of intense pleasure up her body. Her legs would be giving out soon, she wouldn’t be able to keep this up. Feeling (Y/N)’s end approaching, JJ fisted her hair and pulled her up against his chest with ease. “Who owns your pretty pussy now (Y/N)?” he panted, his hot breath fanning over the back of her neck at the new proximity.

(Y/N) moaned out loudly as he pounded back into her in this new position. He broke her train of thought before she even had a chance to think of a reply. The hand at her hip smoothed upward, pausing to grope her boob roughly. Her back arched in response with a sharp gasp before he finally landed on her throat. JJ squeezed, digging his fingers into her pressure point and loosening it to remind her to speak. “You JJ. JJ Maybank owns me and my pussy,” (Y/N) yelped hand moving to grip onto the seat while the other reached back into JJ’s blonde locks. JJ growled, increasing his pace when she jumped forward at a certain shift in angle.

Her eyes were glazing over as the fingers at her neck tightened. Their bodies molded together in a matching rhythm. Her hips jutted down to meet every single one of his upward strokes. JJ was using the grip on her neck to lift and slam her back into him. The filthy sounds of their bodies smacking together was the only thing heard in the foggy van. “So fucking tight,” JJ mutters, lips moving to suck a hickey into the back of her neck. Now that he had discovered how close she was with the way her body quivered in his grasp, he wrecked his way inside of her.

Knowing it was a bad idea, (Y/N)‘s head had still tilted to allow him room to mark her. She was a mess of endless mewls and echoed moans, too dazed by the way he was manhandling her. Her end was quickly building, eyes rolling as she fell back onto the curve of his shoulder. His hand left her hair to explore down the middle of her chest. He trailed a finger down her stomach before finally reaching the top of her pussy. His hand cupped her, fingers wrapping around her opening that was still engulfed by his twitching cock. He palmed at her clit, eliciting a loud cry from (Y/N).

“Beg me to make you cum like he can’t,” JJ slowed his hand to show he’d stop in a scarily calm way, making tears spill over from how hopeless she felt. At this point (Y/N) needed the sweet relief as much she needed oxygen in her lungs. “You already made me cum harder than he ever has-,” her breath caught as he dug his palm into her swollen clit at the confession, “I’m all yours JJ- please make me cum.” That was all he needed to apply just enough pressure to leave (Y/N) sputtering. Her eyes went black as the ferocity of her orgasm left her seeing stars. Her entire body writhed from the intensity. JJ groaned at the way her walls tightened around him. She was drifting into clouds of bliss while riding out her high.

It all encouraged him further to his own end. He removed his hand from her beyond sensitive clit to lay her down fully onto her stomach. JJ’s back stayed pressed against her, not slipping out in the slightest bit. With the new position, her walls clamped down on him. He couldn’t refrain from snapping his hips up to bring the unrelenting speed back to life. This time he was chasing his own end, using her warm hole to get himself off. (Y/N) was incoherent under him, utterly fucked out. “That’s it take it,” his hips lost rhythm, “take all my cum,” jerking upwards desperately. He moaned loudly into her ear, thick ropes of his cum painting her insides.

She shuddered feeling him stop as deep as he could go, his cock throbbing with every drop her clenching pussy squeezed out. They were both panting, the temperature in the van was absurdly high. His sweaty body gave out, hiding her naked one under his. She found the weight of it comforting in her post orgasmic fog. It took her a few minutes to properly come back. JJ had leaned up now, pressing electrifying open-mouthed kisses against the dips of her upper back. His hips shifted a little, earning a broken moan from the girl below him.

When he began to move, she leaned back, not wanting to end the fantasy bubble they had created. JJ shushed her with a small smack to her ass that made her jump. Both of them groaned at the sudden movement and he gripped the redden skin where his hand had just spanked. His other hand had vanished under the seat, reaching for vibrator that was still going off wildly. Her pussy spasmed in fear of the vibration inside of her again after the fucking he had just put her through. “Fuck Princess,” JJ hissed almost pinching her ass from the sensitivity.

The one act of kindness JJ had showed (Y/N), was flicking the manual switch to off on the device.

His fingers looped around the end of it, sitting up carefully.

Her ears perked up as the vibrating came to a stop. “JJ what are you doing?” (Y/N)’s shaky, fucked out voice rang through the silence. JJ felt no need to respond pulling out in one swift go. The feeling of emptiness didn’t settle because he was pumping the vibrator back into her, refusing to let any of the evidence vanish. Her muscles tightened, enduring the continued stimulation with a small puff.

“As much as I want to watch my cum drip out of your wrecked cunt..,” JJ’s voice drifted off as his blue irises dropped to the round curve of her ass. He was mesmerized by her worn out body. The marks he had left were giving in to his ego. His hand tenderly rubbed the skin down her back and squeezed at her butt. He’ll never get enough of the feeling.

“You’re gonna keep this vibrator in until John B undresses you at The Chateau. He’s gonna think he’s won, having made you cum in front of me, out of my reach. Then he’s gonna spread your bruised thighs. Shit he’ll even wonder why the vibrator could possibly be turned off. Then when he pulls it out, all of my cum is gonna drip out of his girls pussy for him.”

*****

Read Part 2 here

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it please like, comment, or reblog💕

There will probably be 4 or 5 parts to this. If you’d like to be added to the taglist and kept up to date with this mini-series please comment below🫶🏼

3K notes · View notes

naomihatake · 7 months

Text

In search of freedom (Ch. 1)

1. They're bad news

Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2

⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.

Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa. This chapter follows the events of the first episode.

Warnings for this chapter: physical violence (fights), mentions of deaths, fluff, some cursing, mentions of tarot and palm readings

Word count: 3,6k

Theme song: “Loreley” by Blackmore's Night (click on the link)

A/N: This is the first part of a fanfiction I was thinking of since first watching One Piece Live Action. I started the anime too and I'm around episode 64 already. I'm using the OPLA course of action for now and I have no idea for an ending, but enough scenarios to write and share. I don't know how far this will go, but I'll have fun writing it and considering how much I like Zoro (born anime and LA), I'm using both of them as inspiration. Sorry for the lack of interaction between reader and Zoro, but I promise things will change.

The reader will be referred to as "Witch" especially in the next chapter, because I have no intentions of using "Y/N". There will be more information revealed about her past and abilities in the next chapter.

I'm open for comments and opinions <3

"Excuse me," she smiled sweetly while swaying away from someone who was standing right in front of her and a table she had to serve for. "Here," she carefully let the plates down.

She received a large smile coming from the young man with dark curls and a straw hat hanging around his neck. His pink haired companion seemed very shy, barely glancing at her before looking back at his plate, thanking in a small voice.

The tavern buzzed with a peaceful energy in the late hours of morning, the big windows letting the warm rays of sun in, lighting up the place. There were men sitting at a few tables, no sign of any other woman except for her and the very owner of that place, who just finished cooking something — were those cookies? It smelled divine.

Her dress fluttered around her knees as she moved away from their table to take other orders, a strand of her hair falling against her cheek after running around for so long. When she finally stopped in her tracks by the bar, intense eyes searched for anyone else who might've needed something. Lucky for her, she could finally breathe for a few seconds, resting her hips against the bar.

However, her eyes fell on the tall figure who just chugged down his throat a shot of alcohol. His green hair made her frown to herself, looking away before she could get caught ogling some stranger. After a few seconds, she looked at him again, this time at the three swords resting against his hip.

Three swords? What can someone do with three swords?

Everyone probably had the same question whenever they saw him for the first time. However, he felt somehow familiar, as if she's heard of someone like that before. A pirate? No, wait, a pirate hunter? The owner told her of so many things and so many people it was impossible to remember each one of them, but she was pretty sure she mentioned some pirate hunter only a few days ago.

Her thought process was interrupted when a man with blonde hair and suit walked by in front of her. Considering the men dressed in white uniforms who entered with him, they must be marines and he was probably their superior — he was walking like he owned the entire port.

She held back from rolling her eyes in annoyance. Her thoughts ran back to what her friend said about pirates last time, the way they argued back and forth about how pirates aren't good. However, she had her own reasons for claiming that not all pirates were ruthless monsters, without elaborating.

She flinched lightly when she heard the thud of a metal plate falling on the floor, snapping her head towards a little girl who was stuttering apologies to the blonde man. Her eyebrows were pulled together at his angry and loud voice mocking the child who had tears in her eyes, fear seeping through her very bones at the exaggerated reaction.

Apparently, they knocked into each other. Oh, there were two cookies on the floor. One of them got crushed under the man's foot.

She smoothly made her way by the side of the little girl, smiling at her as she crouched down to her level.

"Is everything alright, little one? Did you apologize?" the woman's hand squeezed the girl's shoulder warmly.

Rika's only response was a nod.

"Good job. It's alright, I'll help you clean up. Why don't you bring me a broom, hm?" she coaxed the girl with a gentle voice.

Once the girl walked away, she stood up straight again, arching her eyebrow questionably at the arrogant man by her side.

"Is there anything else I could help you with?"

"What, are you working here? If the answer's positive, then you better teach those stupid kids some manners," he huffed.

"You should teach yourself how to behave," she commented right back, her sharp gaze sizing him up and down.

"Take that back. Next time I won't be so nice," the blonde marine grinned.

Oh, and what an ugly grin it was on that fucker's face.

"You dropped my food," a low voice from behind interrupted.

The young woman turned her head towards the voice, confusion written on her face as she made a few steps back, out of his way. It was the green haired man she noticed earlier, now sitting on one of his knees on the cold floor.

Rika came back with a broom almost twice her size, the object quickly taken from her hold by the woman who smiled at her again. While they exchanged glances, the pirate hunter let himself down on one of his knees, taking some of the crushed cookie into his palm.

A sly smile tugged at the woman's lips. A pirate hunter or not, he had more dignity than a marine even in that kneeling position. She was more satisfied to see the little one smiling.

"Your turn," the green-haired man lowered his voice, a dark glare thrown at the astonished marine.

The pirate hunter raised back up and placed the metal plate on the bat, his intimidating height against the arrogant blonde monkey in front of him telling enough.

"Apologize to the girl," he demanded in a relaxed tone.

"Me? It was her fault for bumping into me. The lady should apologize for disrespecting me."

Apologize, my ass, she thought to herself, one step away from bursting out laughing. What did he take her for?

"Do you want a fight or what?" he drew his sword out, a knowing grin curled on his face. "I don't need three swords to fight."

The woman looked down at the little girl who was still by her side, ruffling her hair.

"Why don't you go to your mother, hm? And stay there until I call you back."

Her stern voice didn't give space for arguing; Rika complied, going to the kitchen.

She heard some muttering and next thing she knew, both of the men in front of her had drawn their swords out. Apparently, the green-haired one decided to advance closer to the marine, in an attempt to keep the fight away from the lady.

Hmph. Swordsmen and their unusual gentlemanly behavior.

Squeezing the broom in between her fingers, she moved away, furrowing her eyebrows in a scowl.

"No fights in here, you jerks!" she scoffed.

Expertly, while the other marines attacked one man — how unethical of them — and swords clashed against each other after sharp whistling noises, the woman swept away the cookies on the floor. She faked doing her own duties, like the good employee that she was, throwing careful glances at the fight happening right next to her. If she wasn't careful enough, she could get sliced in two.

"I advise you to get out of the way," she heard the swordsman's voice growling right after he threw a chair into three men, making them fall to the floor.

"You'll destroy the entire place if I do."

Right after saying those words, without anyone noticing in that damned agitation, with a quick movement of the broom, she made one of the marines trip.

Just like the idiots that they were.

"Oh my god, you should be more careful!" she placed a hand over her lips, fake surprise and fear coloring her features.

Who would believe such an innocent being was capable of such malicious actions?

With a strong creak followed by a thud, one marine was thrown into a table that turned the both of them upside down, groans filled with pain vibrating through the tavern.

She was right about them destroying the place.

However, the commotion didn't cause too much distress to the woman still moving the broom around, acting as if she had business with that newly found weapon. It might not be lethal, but she couldn't be spotted while she was intentionally making the marines' jobs harder. In the month she's been working there, she saw more than just one fight and used everything that she saw fit to stop it — be it a broom or a kitchen knife.

Now that she analyzed the fight better, it seemed like the pirate hunter barely even had to draw his sword out of its scabbard, at some point knocking someone's head into the bar. He used his raw strength and the objects surrounding him, thankfully without destroying any of them. The can he threw into another man's stomach seemed so effortless.

That must've hurt, though.

The blonde marine was quickly pulled by the back of his collar, back colliding with the bar, and an angry swordsman towering over him. She didn't hear anything nor paid attention anymore, eyes focused on the tavern that was ruined only half way through.

She sighed after watching both of the men walking out of there, biting her lower lip to hold back a fit of laughter at the marine who stumbled while being dragged by the bounty hunter.

"Why do men always fight in this tavern?" she talked to herself, raising one of the chairs and putting it back in place. "One day of peace is all I want in this port, only one day, and I can't get even that."

She sighed again, only for that long exhale to get stuck in her throat once her eyes fell on the table that was almost sitting in the opposite way rather than how it should be. Once she approached it, stepping by the marine who was trying to get up.

She would never help someone who had less dignity than a dog following some orders from a brainless monkey. Heck, even those animals were smarter.

Instead, she tried to move the table back in its place. Her fingers were so close to gripping at one side of the table before someone appeared at the opposite side. The young man with a straw hat and a square smile she served only a few minutes ago raised the table by himself, carefully arranging it until he was satisfied with its position.

"Thank you so much for the help," she smiled at him. "Be careful where you step, I think a glass also broke."

There were some shreds on the floor somewhere close to the table the young man sat at earlier.

"Thank you for your concern," he smiled just like the first time.

Gosh, has she ever seen such a beautiful soul? His eyes sparkled and the happiness suited him like it did to a little child who has no clue of the harsh world. However, he didn't seem phased or scared by what happened earlier — his hands weren't shaking at all and there was no fear lingering in his stare.

She turned to take the broom and came closer to his companion, who was sitting under the table. She bent her torso to give him a hand, helping him get back to his feet.

"Careful with the glass, check your hands," she warned again.

"I saw what you did there."

She turned towards the straw hat guy, blinking owlishly at him.

"I don't really get what you mean."

She started sweeping the shred of broken glass, not paying attention to the curious and insistent gaze she was receiving.

"You surely do. I'm Monkey D. Luffy and I'm gonna be King of the Pirates!"

Her eyes widened at the second part of his speech, snapping her head back at him. Without even realizing, her fingers were squeezing the broom quite harshly, fingertips going white.

"That's—" she started in a small voice, blinking like an idiot and staring at him.

She's heard that before. She's heard the same dream before and it brought so much suffering.

"That's dangerous," she finally got the courage to continue, still hesitant.

"You're brave for interfering with their fight."

Luffy looked into her eyes as if he could guess the thoughts running through her head, as if he could read her very soul, drinking in her features and reaction.

"You must've seen wrong," she let out a light chuckle, getting a grip on herself. "I'm just clumsy sometimes."

She was thankful she stopped herself from cussing out the Marines, because in less than a second after she finished her sentence, a few other men dressed in white uniforms appeared to help their comrades back to the base. She casted a skeptical eye at each one of them, like silent warnings.

They were pathetic, some of them still stumbling while trying to get up, their swords thrown around carelessly. After they all disappeared from her sight, her shoulders obviously relaxed again.

"I have to admit I hated each second of staying so much with these idiots around," she huffed quietly. "That spoiled child who takes advantage of his father's status was getting on my nerves."

"That's why you helped that swordsman, right?"

Luffy continued with his supposition, not letting go of what he thought he saw — it was the truth, but it would be dangerous to admit.

"I didn't help anyone, really. That was unintentional."

"Don't press it too much, Luffy," his companion's voice trembled.

"Koby, I know what I saw," Luffy pulled his lips into a straight line.

She resumed what she was doing, sweeping at the pieces of glass, seeing almost each one of them in the light seeping through the window.

"If you want to become King of the Pirates, I suppose you also want to get the One Piece, right?"

She was foolish. She was stupid for asking, for getting herself in such business that somehow always ended with too many deaths, with broken dreams. However, something was nagging in her gut. Deep down, it felt so right to ask.

"Yes! I need the Grand Line map for that and I intend on getting from the Marine Base here."

"You're insane, kid," her shoulders shook with her light laughter.

It was a sour sound.

She stopped, leaning her weight into the broom, looking down at the glass in front of her. She shouldn't help them. She should stay in her place if she wanted those young men to survive. What they were trying to do was basically suicide, they just didn't know. Koby seemed to be more fearful, hesitant and so, so shy. Luffy didn't say "us"; he said "I" — the pink-haired guy was not really part of the plan.

Against better judgment, she raised her head at him, promises sparkling in her eyes just like the shreds of glass.

"You can't just ask for that map and I hope you know that. What you want to get yourself into isn't just dangerous, it's like jumping into a suicide mission," her voice strained, pouring all of her hope in her next words: "However, I can help you get inside. Be careful, you have to make sure no one catches you."

"So I was right about you!" Luffy beamed.

"Right about what?"

"That you're brave."

Her lips opened, but no sound came from between them. It was pointless to deny it when he seemed so stubborn about what he saw and believed.

"I think this is a lot to say about someone who's helping you steal secret maps," the side of her mouth curled upwards.

Koby was left astonished. Stealing from the Marines was suicide.

"Listen here, kid," she lowered her voice, stepping closer to whisper. She set her gaze on Luffy's. "You have to get out of there alive, no matter what. Lie if you have to, but I have a feeling you're very bad at that, so be careful. That isn't a place to fool around in. You could get yourself killed in a blink. The Marines are very sneaky."

"There are good Marines and bad Marines," he shrugged. "Maybe I'll meet someone who's willing to help."

"I like your enthusiasm, but that unit base doesn't fit," she shook her head. "Both Captain Morgan and his son aren't the good kind of people."

She squeezed the broom in between her fingers again, an ugly feeling clawing at her throat. She didn't want a kid to die for following his dreams, but freedom was something she always craved.

"I'll tell you a way to get inside the base from underneath. You have to keep your lips sealed — I don't worry about myself, but about the owner and her daughter. I don't want word spreading around."

"You can count on me!" he placed his hand on his heart, as if he sealed the promise there. "Who are you? I want to know who's helping me."

Damned be his sincerity.

"I'll give you my name after you get out of there alive."

She smiled, eyes sparkling with delicious mischief.

"That is a promise. I'll be around the Marine Base and I'll tell you my name after I see you get out of there alive."

That seemed to stir something in Luffy's soul, inhaling with pride. A man of his word, indeed, just like she thought.

"Deal.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

Her name left the lips of a scolding mother, even if it wasn't her mom.

"I saw you." The second time she heard tthat same phrase in one day.

Annie patted the tip of her shoe against the floor repeatedly.

"I was just lucky enough not to get myself in trouble," she shrugged.

However, her eyes fell on the floor, guilty about getting caught like a deer in the light.

"You could've gotten yourself in big trouble!" the owner of the tavern raised her voice.

Rika pouted up at her mother, trying to sweeten her reaction.

"She just wanted to help, just like—"

"Rika," this time, the scolded one firmly spoke her name. "Don't take me as an idol. It's true that something could have happened."

The little girl shouldn't worry about such a bloody world just yet and she wanted to help it for as long as possible. Being stubborn was a death sentence, even if she would always get herself into trouble if it meant to stick to her principles.

She'd rather die on her feet than live on her knees.

"Just because this time everything was fine, it doesn't mean next time will be the same," Annie exhaled loudly, frowning.

"There won't be a next time," the young woman sank her chin in her chest. "I should leave these days. Soon enough, word will spread out about my tarot and palm readings. I don't want to cause you any more trouble."

"You little witch," the usual scolding was replaced with a warm nickname.

She raised her head again, struggling to smile. Leaving after she got attached always hurt.

"That man was Roronoa Zoro, wasn't it?" Annie asked, her body suddenly tensing.

"Most probably," she shrugged. "Three swords, three earrings. He put on quite a show, to be honest," the words were followed by a chuckle.

"I see the way your eyes are sparkling. Don't even think about getting into some conversation with such a troublesome person."

"What could do some adventure to a poor soul like me?" she teased.

"It could bring you six feet under."

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

"I'm no witch, you idiots!" she struggled against the harsh grip the two men had on her arms.

She hissed when one of them sank his fingertips in her upper arms, glaring at him.

Shithead marines.

She continued writhing and struggling, stomping her feet into the ground in an awful attempt to stop them. She intended on keeping her promise after she helped the straw hat sneak into their base. She waited for as long as it was necessary after she gathered her things in a bag that hung around her shoulders. She was supposed to leave that place after she made sure the kid was alright and alive.

"God dammit!" she shouted. "How many times do I have to explain I'm not doing anything wrong?!"

"You're lying to people and receiving money, filthy witch. You're a thief," one of the men commented as they continued walking her away from the port.

"I didn't steal shit!" she snapped.

"Watch out!" she heard a familiar voice.

Instantly, she bent her torso down. The man on her right was punched in the face with so much force he released her grip on her and stumbled into the marine on her left, both of them now on the ground.

She didn't even get enough time to process what was happening, something curling around her waist carefully, but so fast. A yelp left her lips when she realized she was being lifted off the ground, turning her head towards the source.

It was the straw hat's arm. He ate a devil fruit, didn't he?

He was on a boat that was sailing a few meters away in the sea and she was being pulled towards him. She also recognized the pirate hunter from earlier and a woman with orange hair, both of them far too relaxed for what was happening.

That guy was made of rubber!

She recognized Koby who just got to his feet after she got past him, her feet finally touching something solid again. She blinked confused at the straw hat.

"You can't bring everyone that you like on this ship," the swordsman let out a hopeless sigh.

She busted out laughing like a maniac, the colorful and rich sound filling the air. Her shoulders shook and she had to place her hand over her stomach, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. Obviously, her reaction was met with an especially questionable look coming from the swordsman, who most probably thought he got on a ship with another insane human.

"You're insane, kid," she wiped the tears in her eyes with her fingers, still smiling widely.

She hasn't felt such relief in years.

"I guess I gotta fulfill a promise, right?"

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

947 notes · View notes

sxnshxnxxnddxxsxxs · 6 months

Text

Duke Thomas headcannons becuase please just write him as a black boy:

the first time there’s a summer rain at night after he moves into Wayne Manor Duke sets up the speakers and the floodlights and lives out his 00’s rnb music video dreams

after that Alfred will sometimes drive him around in the back of one of the cars when it rains at night because he doesn’t want his latest grandson to get hypothermia but understands that it is very important to live out 00’s rnb music video dreams

Duke teaches Cass the Usher watch this thing and originally they only use it to tell each other that they’re gonna do some dumb shit but then Cass decides she really likes it and uses it more than the actual sign

Duke and Cass have a theme song because they are besties and that theme song is black and yellow by Wiz Khalifa whenever it plays they drop everything to rap to each other and if anyone turns it off before it finishes they start it again even louder it becomes a great distraction technique for other batfamily members. they chose the song because of their uniforms but the first time a civilian sees how enthusiastic they are about the song they draw a different conclusion and they find it so funny that they definitely have to keep it as their theme song from now on

Duke lives a no shoes in the house life no matter who’s house it is or what everyone else is doing

He also keeps his Signal uniform exclusively in the batcave because no uniforms in the Manor seems like the natural extension for no outside clothes in bed

Duke sneaks scotch bonnets into the Manor kitchen generally timed with the occasions that Jason is around and in the mood to cook. Dinner those nights feature running eyes and noses from Bruce Tim and Steph along with all the milk in the Manor finishing. It’s great entertainment for Duke Cass Damian Jason and Dick

Duke has locs he lowkey thinks about bleaching the ends to match the aesthetic of his uniform but he’s unsure of if it will make him to conspicuous

When he first moved to the Manor he got pooled into the schedule to pick up hair shop (beauty supply store) supplies with the Fox’s because they’re all way too busy of people to be driving out of the way individually so it only made sense to add Duke to that. He and Tam also timetable his retwist appointments with her hair appointments for the same time

Duke is an instigator Jason and Tim will be having a petty squabble that is about to fizzle out but then Duke walks past them and just whispers a quick “if I were you I wouldn’t have that” and then an hour later a priceless vase is broken there’s holes in the wall and Tim and Jason have matching black eyes. Duke considers it a public service to provide Babs with entertainment for when Oracle hours a slow she agrees and doesn’t snitch on just how much shit Duke starts so he can get away with even more

Duke joins Jason and Alfred’s book club and the first book he picks is Beloved because like they’re in this big old gothic manor respect the aesthetic

One time Bruce walks passed Duke on ft to his friends and he’s performing “Wisdom” and Bruce thinks it’s something Duke came up with himself and is trying to be a supportive dad and is like “that’s great son” with a really strained smile and Duke just sticks to the bit like “you really think so?” bruce even more pained “yeah it’s amazing”

He also has exclusively satin pillowcases and gives everyone in the Manor a set because it’s good for the hair and therefore a good use of Bruce’s rich people money

Duke upon realising that he was gonna be adopted by a bunch of crime fighting pseudofurries and was going to join them in the crime fighting said this some white people shit and that’s why he chose Signal rather than some bioluminescent bird

680 notes · View notes

lincolndjarin · 6 months

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty six : crucifixion

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 12.7k

summary : judgement day.

warnings: major character death, above canon typical violence, very brief references to suicide, torture, body horror (briefly), feelings of despair, blood, wounds, general kodo grossness, vomit (reader vomits several times, it is never described in detail), language, angst, brief smut, pregnancy, death, reader is not doing well in this like she's at a breaking point, i may have missed some so feel free to let me know.

a/n: please read the warnings on this chap! it's the most serious of the bks updates, definitely a bit more intense than the rest. gonna work on getting 27 out within the next few day. i've been terrified of releasing this chapter since i started writing it so once i post this i'm going to dig a hole and sit in it and hide for a while lmao.

i changed my editing style so if there's spelling errors lmk!! apologies in advance!!

“My room is too big.”

He bursts into genuine peals of laughter and you gently smack his arm.

“Don’t laugh, it’s a serious issue! My room is enormous.” You’re giggling along with him now, it’s the hardest you’ve ever heard him laugh. You both just laugh for a few minutes, as if each other's company is the most amusing thing in the world.

Once your giggles fizzle out you wait another moment before breaking the silence.

“Where did you grow up?” You can’t see him but you can sense where he sits in the darkness, you crawl forward so you’re sitting between his legs, your own legs wrap around his waist. “I’m just curious.”

“Aq Vetina.” You can’t recall anything about the planet. You aren’t even sure you’ve heard of it.

“Do you remember your parents well? You don’t talk about them very much.” You put your hands on his shoulders, ever so slowly moving them up to his neck until you’re cupping his face.

“I’ll never forget them.” He whispers.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We can’t change the past.” You rub your nose against his, bumping them together as you hum and nod. “My mother loved ships. We didn’t travel, we never had a reason to, but she would take me outside and we’d watch ships fly past. I could never comprehend how she knew the name for all of them, it blew my mind.” You wrap your arms around his neck, staying silent in hopes that he’ll continue, he so rarely speaks so much. “My father worked a lot but he always made time for us, he was always home in time to say goodnight to me. He was always around when I needed him, he always provided for us. On his day off he’d spend the whole day cooking, I’d sit on the kitchen counter and tell him what my mother and I had done that week. When she’d come home we’d all eat dinner together.”

“You sound like you were a happy child.” You can’t help but smile.

“I never had reason to be otherwise.” He says it so matter of factly that you don’t doubt it for a second. He was loved. It only makes you smile wider.

“What were you like, as a child?”

“Well behaved.” You immediately begin laughing once more.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it. My mother homeschooled me, she always made sure I had manners. I wasn’t particularly athletic or talkative so I didn’t play with other kids a lot. It was just me and mama.” He sounds far away, it makes you want to hold him close and never let him go.

“So what did you do all day?” Your tone has softened significantly.

“I would sew.”

“Be serious.” He’s the one who laughs now at the disbelief in your voice.

“I am! I would sit with my mother after my lessons and we’d sew.” His fingertips dance along the back of your neck as he reminisces.

“What kinds of things?” You don’t tease. When you really think about it you suppose such a hobby is fitting for him. A task that requires precision and care.

“I would help her make clothes and blankets that she would sell most days. On the weekends she’d let me do whatever I wanted so I would practice my embroidery.”

“My heart is actually about to explode out of my chest, you’re so cute.” You put on a mocking tone but the thought of such a thing really does make your heart clench. “Little Din Djarin stitching his name into his clothes.”

“You’re a cruel woman.” He leans forward, knocking his forehead against yours, almost as if he were reprimanding you.

“What sorts of things would you embroider?” Your tone goes back to genuine, you could listen to him talk about himself for days and you’d never get bored.

“Whatever my mother wanted. I would ask her what I should do and then I’d stitch it onto her blanket or the hem of her skirt. Mostly flowers, she loved daisies.” You’re pretty sure one of your ovaries literally popped at the thought of a little boy with dark curls and big brown eyes sitting beside his mother and embroidering a daisy onto her skirt. Your heart flutters a bit as you think of the necklace he got you. The silver outline of a flower you now realize is a daisy. “If he was ever gone for more than one night for work my father would bring her daisies, one for each day he was away.”

“Do you still know how?”

“I used to fix Grogu’s clothes when he ripped them but I haven’t done much else since I was a boy. He says it with finality but you carry on, not wanting him to stop talking.

“What were their names? Your parents?”

“Clara and Arin Djarin.”

“Those are pretty names.”

“What was it like for you? You said you had seven siblings right?”

“Eight actually.” You think of them now. There were eight of you and your parents' love for all of you combined wasn’t even a tenth of how much Din’s parents loved him.

“Do you like having a big family?” He lifts you off of his lap, laying you back down as he crawls on top of you, laying against your chest.

“I love it. I miss my siblings everyday, do you think we’ll be able to visit them someday?”

“If it’s safe to, of course we will.” He tilts his head, if you weren’t in darkness he’d be looking at you.

“I wish they had visited here. They would have loved you.”

“You think?”

“Are you kidding me? The younger ones would adore you.” You tangle your finger in his hair, scratching his scalp. “Kids just naturally like you.”

“They just haven’t learned to fear me.” You frown when he says it like a fact.

“I think it’s more than that.”

“Yeah?” The hopeful tilt to his voice has you leaning down to press a kiss into his hair.

“Kids are intuitive, they can sense that you’re a good person.” He tenses up as you tell him he’s a good person. You know exactly what he’s thinking about now, how he punched your husband and then refused to leave.

Neither one of you wants to talk about that though, not today.

“What kind of room would you want? Since your current room isn’t to your liking.” He’s quick to change the subject and you let him.

“In all honesty, I like the cabin, I wish we could just live there.” You run your fingers through his curls as you think about it, gently pulling through any tangles.

“My cabin?” His voice is full of uncertainty as he pulls back a bit.

“It’s nice.” You feel a bit defensive, you consider the cabin to be the closest thing you have to a home. “Can you imagine getting to stay on Naboo? We could spend our mornings walking the market.” You rest your hand on the back of his neck now. “We could get jobs in the city, and then at night we’d come home.”

“To the cabin?” He still sounds rather skeptical of your hypothetical future.

“I’d cook dinner, you’d do the chores.”

“The cabin’s a bit small for us.”

“We’d make it a bit bigger, add a few bedrooms, we don’t need that much space.”

“A few?” He turns his head, his lips brush against your collar briefly as he kisses you there, freezing up when you speak again.

“At least two, one for us and then some for any little Djarin’s who might need space.” With that he sits up entirely, his legs straddle your stomach.

“Little Djarin’s?”

“And Grogu, he would come live with us as well.”

“You’d want him to live with us?”

“Of course, he’s a little Djarin.” Your hands rest on his thighs now as he seemingly ponders above you. He hums to himself in silence for a moment and you can’t help but grin at how seriously he’s taking all of this.

“How many?” He finally speaks again and you laugh at the bluntness of his question.

“Kids?”

“How many would you want?”

“You go first.” You haven’t ever talked about this sort of thing so you want to gauge his answer first so you don’t scare him too much with all the kids talk.

“Maybe five? Or six.”

“Six?” Your voice pitches up immediately and you feel a rumble in his chest as he laughs.

“Or five.”

“How about two, counting Grogu.” Turns out you didn’t need to worry about scaring him off.

“How about three?” Three is manageable.

“Counting Grogu?”

“Counting Grogu.” He seems satisfied with that.

“I suppose we could have three, you’re the one who has to build all the extra bedrooms.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I’d work at the library and you’d work in a shipyard, we’d take turns staying home with the kids.” You pull him back to you, taking his hands and dragging him to lay his head on your chest once more.

“I’ve got enough savings, neither one of us has to work if you’d like.” It sends a twinge of pain to your heart how real this conversation has become, knowing that this exact dream isn’t possible.

You could always make parts of it real.

Someday.

“I’d want to work, to get out of the house, but you could stay home if you’d like.”

“When they’re still ik’aad, at least for the first few years I’d want to be with them.” He’s going to be a wonderful father.

“Then I’d work, not long hours, just enough to get me out of the house, when I come home I’d give you a break, you could do the shopping and I’d watch the little’s.”

“We’d go as a family, I wouldn’t want ‘a break.’”

“You’d want to wrangle three kids in the markets?” You scoff in disbelief but he continues to sound completely serious.

“They’d be well behaved.” You seriously doubt that.

“What about either one of us makes you think our children will be well behaved? Is Grogu well behaved?”

“We’ll manage.”

“They’ll be wild.” They will, not they would.

“And smart.” He sits up again, hovering above you to give you a quick kiss.

“And happy.” There isn’t a doubt in your mind that your children would be happy with Din as their father.

“You’d really want to live here? I could build us a house anywhere.”

“I like Naboo, at least everything outside of the castle. I don’t even mind the castle, I just don’t care for the people inside it.” It’s true, somewhere along the way this place grew on you immensely. You love the city and the people in it. “And they’d get to play in the garden.”

“I would build you a cabin anywhere you wanted, and I’d plant you a new garden.” He kisses along your cheeks and forehead as he speaks.

“You wouldn’t need to plant me a garden if we lived here.” You insist.

“We can’t live here, mesh’la.” He rubs a small circle with his thumb against your cheek. “This is too serious now, we’re supposed to be relaxed today.”

“When did we agree on that?” You muster up a weak laugh.

“It was a silent mutual agreement.”

“I’m plenty relaxed.” You mumble. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his stubble tickling you as you let out an airy giggle.

“I’m actually very tense and I think we should take a break from all this talking and take care of that.” He mumbles against your shoulder.

“Oh?”

“Mhmm.” He emphasizes his point by pressing his erection against your hip, you hadn’t even realized that this is where he was going with that.

“How long have you been waiting to jump me?”

“When we started talking about the five kids I was gonna put in you.” He continues to nip at your neck and shoulders as he speaks.

“Skipping the agreed upon three and going straight to five already? You’re not even going to attempt to negotiate for four?”

“So you’re open to four?” He pulls back and you can hear his smile.

“Let’s start with one and go from there.”

“Right now?” His hips stutter down a bit against yours.

“Maker, you’re insatiable.” You both burst into another fit of laughter.

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“I could get pregnant, and considering the lack of sex I’ve had with my husband I’m sure that might raise a few eyebrows.”

“It would never get to that point, when we’re in the clear with this whole Kodo mess I’m getting you out of here.”

“Like… actually leaving Naboo?”

“Exactly like that. I’m gonna take you far away from here when this is over, gonna keep you all for myself.” His hands move down, giving your hips a squeeze.

“I’m already yours.” You laughed, rolling over to be on top of him. He’s right, if you’re going to leave anyway then what’s the worst thing that could happen?

You never talked about that night after that.

When everything sorted itself out you realized how crazy your fear had made you. You couldn’t just leave. At least that’s what you’d told yourself, now you feel like an idiot for not holding him to his words. It wasn’t realistic, you both knew actually leaving would take so much more preparation than a few whispered ideas during a time where neither one of you was in any position to be making such promises.

It was just talk.

Lysa came to get you from the dining room.

After everyone left you had no motivation to move, you just stood there, frozen in time. After a few hours she found you, she had taken your hand and walked you back to your chambers. She held your hand, she kept you upright when you threatened to crumble. And when you felt a wave of nausea ripple through you she rushed you to the fresher, a hand on your back as you threw up all over again.

You sat breathlessly on the tile, Lysa rubbing your back.

“Gods, I’ve been nauseous since the wedding. Even before everything fell apart.” It’s the first words you’ve spoken since they took Din, your stomach is still churning. “This has never happened before.” You groan, you’ve had many moments of upset throughout your life, but none that made you physically ill. Lysa looks almost painfully worried.

“Ma’am… is there a chance you might be…”

Kriff.

You never talked about that night after that.

Maybe you should have.

You both did a lot of things during those days. You had been so angry, and he had done everything in his power to ease that anger, to keep both of you as happy as someone could be in your situation.

You shouldn’t have used that as an excuse to be reckless.

“I’d like to go to bed.”

“Of course.” She helps you to your feet, walking you back to your room, you turn to her one last time before you close the door.

“I’m sorry. Elaine never should have gotten involved in all this.” You’d trade places with her in a heartbeat if you could.

“It’s not your fault.” She truly seems to believe that.

Except it is. Elaine never would have found herself in this situation if she hadn’t so often been helping the two of you keep your secret.

“Goodnight, Lysa.”

“Goodnight, princess.”

You lay on the bed, unable to bring yourself to sleep in the closet.

It’s cold. Colder than Hoth, as you stare at the ceiling in your far too big bed in your far too big room. Even bigger now that it’s just you.

You let your hand roam down your torso to rest on your stomach.

Just you, hopefully.

☆

You’re now having nightly dinners with Kodo.

You don’t get any respite from him, you just want to stay in bed. You’re nauseous and tired and your head hasn’t stopped spinning since that night. A million thoughts a minute.

Where is he?

Is he okay?

What the fuck can I do about it?

Mostly that.

The worst part is your lack of a plan. If the roles were reversed Din would have already rescued you and you’d be living happily ever after.

But that isn’t how your story is going. Instead you are alone, with no scheme on how to get to him. It’s only been three days but it’s driving you insane, you have never known such hopelessness, it’s maddening. To sit alone in your room all day, staring at the ceiling until Lysa comes to dress you for dinner. Neither one of you ever speaks, afterall, what would you say to each other?

“I’m sorry the love of your life had been sentenced to die?”

How morbid.

Not that you’re above being morbid.

You think about it often. How easy it would be to drive your dinner knife into Kodo’s throat. You’re seated beside him now at dinner, both of you at the head of the table, joined by the rest of his family.

The thought of killing him is the only thing that brings you peace these days. You’ve never once in your life been violent until now. Din is good. He’s a good man. In every way he is the opposite of your husband yet Din is the one locked away, Maker knows where, while Kodo is being rewarded.

It doesn’t make you mad, it makes you furious.

It makes you want to poison his wine.

But you don’t have poison.

And you can’t put yourself in danger. Because you feel fundamentally different, and even if you refuse to think that such a thing is possible you know you wouldn’t just be putting yourself in danger. There’s more at stake now.

That’s what you tell yourself to stay calm, a feat that is getting harder by the minute as you’re sat beside Kodo who is currently bragging about how he defeated a Mandalorian.

“They aren’t as strong as you think they are. Under the armor they’re weak, pathetic.”

It took six battle droids to keep him down. You didn’t even get near him.

“Some people just need to be taught a lesson, don’t touch what isn’t yours.” He sneers and the rest of the table erupts into laughter. “I certainly taught that horned bitch a lesson as well, you all should have seen what they brought me last night.”

You perk up, this is the only thing they’ve said in days that truly matters to you. You’ve heard nothing about the current state of either of them until now.

“What did they do to Elaine?” Everyone’s head turns to you, all their expressions look as if you’ve announced something treasonous but Kodo smiles as if he were explaining something to a child.

“She was properly punished, the way someone who observed such a crime with no intervention should be.” He puts his hand over yours when he says it.

You don’t ask for any follow up.

You don’t think you could stomach it, so you stay silent for the rest of your meal. When you’re finished you stand, the rest of the table is starting to pour more drinks but you simply lean down, mumbling something about being tired before giving Kodo a quick kiss on the cheek and dismissing yourself.

You’re waiting for the night where he joins you in your chambers, after all his father is dead, but it has yet to happen. He had told you that once he was king he would be in need of heirs but he seems happy enough with his pleasure houses and you’re more than grateful for the women you entertain him so you don’t have to.

So you return to your chambers alone, peeling off your gown before burying yourself under the covers.

Sleep evades you as you toss and turn. You aren’t even tired, there’s too much going on in your mind, there’s no room for exhaustion. After about an hour you manage to drift in and out of unconsciousness, earning a brief reprieve from your anxieties until a sharp knocking has you jolting upright.

You don your robe, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you rush to the door, you’re too tired to wonder who might even be bothering you at such an hour as you pull the door open.

Lysa?

“We have to hurry, ma’am.” She grabs your arm, frantically tugging you into the hall.

“Lysa? What are you doing? Are you okay?”

“I am fine, but we don’t have much time.”

“Surely you have enough to tell me where we are going.”

“Do you want to see him or not?”

Din.

You nod, taking her hand as he rushes onward, stopping at each hall to peer around the corners until you make your way to a servants stairwell, skipping several steps in your descent until you run out of stairs. You’ve never been down here, you didn’t even know there were dungeons until recently.

It makes your stomach twist in knots the moment you stare into the darkness.

“Are there no guards?” You whisper, squeezing her hand.

“Not for the next hour, I’ve made sure of it.” She begins walking down the poorly lit corridor, pulling you along behind her.

The stone floor is damp and it smells of mildew. Your bare feet are already freezing after just a few steps.

Every cell you pass is lit from the outside with a hanging lantern, they’re mostly empty, but you catch glimpses of movement out of the corner of your eye every now and then. In all honesty you’re doing your best to take in as little as possible, you don’t want to think about Din being down here in such a place, but there’s one element you can’t ignore.

The wailing.

Someone is weeping, a low, sorrowful song filling the vast maze of halls and you realize quickly you’re heading in its direction, Lysa tenses beside you as you continue on. You’re about to turn one more corner when she abruptly stops, turning to face you.

“He needs to eat.” She removes a fistful of rations from her apron pocket, shoving them into your hands.

“He hasn’t?” He’s been down here for three days.

“He won’t… let me.” You pause, cocking your head to the side and she gives you an apologetic look when she turns. “He won’t let me uncover his face.”

Oh.

“I’ll feed him.” You nod slowly, tucking them into your own pockets before turning the corner. The contents of the cell immediately on your right have you stumbling backwards but Lysa is not swayed, pulling a key from her pocket, unlocking the door quickly before handing it to you.

“He’s two cells down, on your right.” She doesn’t look at you as she rushes in, pulling a roll of bandages from her dress. “Shh… it’s okay, I’m here.” Her voice goes soft as she kneels beside Elaine. You can’t help it as you step into the entryway of the cell.

Well, you’ve found the source of the wailing.

She’s sat on a cot, curled in on herself as Lysa carefully peels back a series of soiled bandages from her face.

“I’ve got you, it’s just me.” She continues to make an attempt to sooth a rather hysterical Elaine as she peels back the final layer of bandages and your stomach flips. “You’re okay, love, I need to change these.” You don’t know how Lysa is so calm, even in the darkness you can see the extent of her wounds. Now you know what they brought Kodo last night.

Both eyes.

“She was properly punished, the way someone who observed such a crime with no intervention should be.”

Oh gods.

You’re worried you may collapse as you watch Lysa tend to her with no hesitation, cleaning them with a careful hand before she begins to redress them. You can’t bear to watch any longer as Elaine begins sobbing once more. You try desperately to force the sight of your mutilated friend from your mind as you count down two more cells before quickly fumbling for the lock, letting it hit the floor as you take the lantern outside the door off its hook, bringing it into the dark room.

It isn’t like Elaine’s cell.

There’s no bed or interior light, it’s terribly dark and fetid, his cell running deeper than her’s. It takes a few steps for you to finally illuminate the room enough to see him.

Maker.

What have they done to your Din?

You don’t hear Elaine anymore, there isn't a single thing that could distract you from the scene in front of you. There is nothing but the sight of your kar’ta. There’s too much for you to worry about, you don’t even know where to start, you’re frozen in place, a small part of your brain refuses to recognize the man before you as Din at all. He shouldn’t look like this.

Armorless.

They’ve stripped him of any clothing you recognize, the thought alone makes you nearly lose your dinner.

They took his helmet, replacing it with a linen sack.

Did they see his face?

You briefly have to shut your eyes, taking a deep breath as you take in the rest of him. His clothes are too thin, he must be freezing, they’ve dressed him in a cotton tunic and trousers that end just below the knee. You can see just how beaten and bruised he is. Unlike Elaine he’s in chains, kneeling on the floor with his hands shackled, taut above his head. You swallow the lump in your throat and finally crouch down in front of him, setting the lantern down beside you as you reach out to place a hand on his chest.

“Din…” Your voice cracks and the moment you come in contact with him he flinches back. Suddenly you know how Lysa held it together so well with Elaine, she just had to. You can’t fall apart, who would care for him now if you did? “It’s me, just me. Just me.” You whisper and place a hand over his heart but withdraw it quickly when he trembles under your touch. You ache at the sight of it but more than anything you’re confused, it only takes a moment for you to realize the issue.

He doesn’t have his helmet. They’ve not only left him here blind, but deaf, of course any touch would frighten him.

He assumes you're here to harm him.

You lean in, careful not to come in contact with him as you speak clearly and loudly.

“Din?” His trembling stops instantly. You find it a bit troublesome how much worse his hearing seems to have gotten in such a short time, you’re half tempted to reach under the bag to make sure he still has his ears.

“Sarad?” Oh, Din. His voice is terribly small and it sends you forward, wrapping your arms around him as you pull him into an unreciprocated embrace.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You make sure to speak loud enough for him before pulling back, placing your hands against the fabric covering his face.

“Are you okay?” He coughs a bit as he asks and you almost laugh at how ridiculous the question is considering the state he’s in. Are you okay?

Technically no.

But far better than he’s doing.

“I’m perfectly fine, what can I do for you? Are you hurting?” You feel his face through the bag as you look down across his body. It doesn’t look like there’s been any permanent damage outside of a pretty nasty cut on one of his legs.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Now’s not the time to play the hero, Din.” He flinches a little and you calm your tone immediately. What the hell did they do to him? “Just let me help.”

“How’d you get down here?”

“Lysa, she says you aren’t eating.”

“She’d have to lift my- the bag to do it.” He sounds apologetic, as if you could ever fault him for following his creed.

“It’s okay… may I?” You bring your hands to the hem of the bag but his head turns sharply.

“I- I don’t want you to look.”

You have no response. He’s always wanted you to look.

“I just, I don’t think you wanna see the condition I’m in. I don’t want your only memories of my face to be this.” He whispers when you don’t respond.

You should have looked when he asked you to. You should have done a lot of things differently.

You shouldn’t have waited so long to look.

You shouldn't have waited so long to tell him you loved him.

You should have just let yourself love him. Why did you fight it for so long? It seems silly now. If you could do it all again you would have just taken his helmet off the first night you met him and you would have married him right then and there. You would have left Naboo that night.

And you would never keep any of it from him. You would tell him how important he is and how loved he is, you wouldn’t make him wait.

Even now you can’t help it though, censoring yourself out of fear. Do you tell him about how nauseous you get every morning? About the way Lysa stares at your belly when she does your makeup?

No.

It wouldn’t do either of you any good, not when he’s in this situation.

You take hold of the edges of the bag once more, gentler this time.

“I’ll close my eyes.” You lift the fabric completely off of him, setting it in your lap as you simultaneously shut your eyes. You keep one hand on his face, using your thumb to find the corner of his mouth as your other hand fumbles to open a ration bar. You feel him part his lips as you feed him. He’s barely chewing, eating quickly and swallowing most of it whole. “Have they fed you at all?” You whisper as he finishes the first bar in a matter of seconds, his teeth lightly scraping against your fingers before you withdraw them, tearing open another bar.

“No.” His voice is still soft as you go to feed him once more, opening each package until he’s eaten them all.

“Are you still hungry? I could see if Lysa has more.”

“I’m okay.” You let your head fall forward, resting your forehead on his.

“What else can I do for you?”

“Nothing. Being here is enough.”

If you had felt helpless before it was nothing compared to this. This is more than helplessness, it’s despair.

“I’m sorry.” You pull yourself further into his lap, wrapping your arms around him in the process.

“Hey… none of this is your fault.” It certainly feels like it is. Why does he keep comforting you when he’s the one shivering and alone down here?

“Please, there has to be something I can do to help you.”

“There is one thing.” You almost open your eyes, you're so relieved, you just want to ease his pain.

“Anything. I’ll do anything.”

“I need you to promise me you won’t look.”

“Won’t look?” Your eyes are already closed, you couldn’t look any less if you tried.

“When they do it. I don’t want you to see it- it won’t be pretty.”

When they separate his head from his body.

“I won’t.” You can’t deny him this, you’ll give him anything he wants. “Do you know how much I love you?” You whisper before leaning forward another inch to kiss him.

The question is genuine. It terrifies you to your core to think that he may not know just how much you love him.

“Of course sarad.” He murmurs against your lips until you let your head rest on his shoulder, fighting back tears.

What do you say now?

What do you say to a man condemned to death?

“I love you.” You mumble into the thin fabric of his tunic.

“I love you too.” After a moment more with him you hear metal jingling as Lysa locks Elaine's cell once more. You quickly pull back from him, pulling the bag back over his head, once you know he can’t see you anymore the tears flow freely. Lysa steps into the cell and you remove your robe, wrapping it around him, immediately he begins to protest.

“Mesh’la, you can’t leave this here.” His voice is strained and it makes you sick to think he started crying once he was out of sight as well.

“Please, y-you’re gonna freeze.”

“They’ll know you were here, sarad’ika.”

“Din…” You’re practically babbling as Lysa removes your robe from his shoulders, an apologetic look on her face as she grabs your arm.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but we need to go.” Tears sting your eyes as Lysa urges you to hurry but you don’t want to leave him, you want to stay, no matter the consequence. You pull away from her, wrapping your arms around his torso.

“You need to go.” His voice is urgent through the fabric as you cling to him tighter.

Would it be easier to just stay? Get caught and join him at the executioners? You’re genuinely considering it when you feel your stomach churn once more and you’re reminded of the exact reason why you can’t stay. Before you lose your nerve and shatter completely you lift the bag, just enough to give you an eyeful of his split lip and bruised jaw as you gently lean in and kiss him one more time.

Doing everything in your power to remember exactly what it feels like.

The curve of his lips and the shape of his chin, the overgrown stubble brushing against your skin as you press your face harder against his, desperation taking over as you taste salt on his lips. You hold him as long as you can, until you hear Lysa urging you to make haste once more.

“I love you.” You press your forehead to his through the fabric, feeling the familiar shape of his face against yours.

“I’ll always be yours.”

That was the last thing he was able to say before you let Lysa drag you out of the dungeons.

☆

It’s like everythings suddenly back to the beginning.

You wake up alone, you go to bed alone, and you wander the castle alone.

There is no plotting or scheming to free Din.

Even if you were a trained killer or bounty hunter, it would be more than difficult to get him out of the dungeon and on a ship off Naboo. It would be even harder to do so when you’re one of the most recognizable people on the planet.

He is buried deep beneath the ground and there is nothing you can do about it.

After all, you're just a doll.

You don’t know when it happened but all your clothes are blue again. Every dress Lysa fetches from the closet is a different shade of blue and all your nightgowns are the color of the sky. A personal brand put on you by Kodo. It’s clearly more than just a preference now, it’s a reminder to you and everyone else that you’re his.

And time blends.

You know a date was set right around the time you visited him. One week until Kodo’s coronation and two until the execution. His first public event after being crowned king will be a death sentence, how fitting.

So you wake.

And you sleep.

And you walk.

Kodo never replaces Din and you haven’t seen Leo since that night, so you’re completely alone. It’s like he’s rubbing in the fact that you’re powerless. There’s no need for you to have a guard, you can’t leave. If you tried you’d be escorted back in an instant.

You tried to convince Lysa to let you see him again last night.

“Please, just a few minutes-“

“I’m sorry ma’am, it’s just not possible. The only reason I was able to get you down there the first time was because the guard that usually lets me in was working nights, he won’t be working nights again until next month.”

Din won’t live to see next month.

“Is he eating?”

“He won’t let me-“

“You need to insist. Tell him I insist, and tell him you’ll close your eyes.”

She pins back a bit of your hair, leaving half up and half down. You both bask in the silence for a moment.

“I’ll make sure he eats.”

“Thank you.”

That had been the last conversation you had with Lysa.

She doesn’t come to dress you in the morning. You think nothing of it and dress yourself in the gown she’d laid out last night. It’s a bit difficult, putting your coronation gown on on your own but eventually you manage, when you’re fully dressed in the obscenely decadent blue fabric you begin to worry.

You have no reason to assume that everything is fine. It would actually make sense for this to be a worst case scenario situation, everything else in your life is right now.

You’re about to leave in search of her but you decide against it. Sitting at the vanity and doing your makeup as quickly as possible, the last thing you need to do right now is give Kodo a reason to be upset with you, you have to be presentable. You smear the shimmering blue eyeshadow across your lids before rushing out of your room.

The halls are full. Servants move quickly from room to room, cleaning every inch as you carefully push through the crowds, making a beeline towards the dining room.

Kodo is seething when you push open the large doors.

He stands at the end of the table, shoving an armored guard as the veins in his neck jut out in his rage.

“Where could she have possibly gone? She’s blind. You’re telling me some blind bitch outsmarted my entire guard?”

Your heart flutters at the thought.

They escaped.

Your hope is shattered the moment Kodo begins speaking again.

“At least we still have the Mandalorian… I want security tripled, guards stationed outside his cell at all times.” He continues grumbling for a moment until he realizes you’re there. “Happy coronation day dear wife! I’m afraid we’ve had a rough morning here, somehow in the night the Togruta girl escaped, do not fret, we’ll find her.”

God's you hope not.

Even if things are worse than ever regarding Din there is one flicker of light in that darkness. Lysa got Elaine out. Knowing that almost puts you at ease.

“Happy coronation day.” You actually manage a smile when you look at your husband, it’s weak but it’s genuine. You want to be mad that they didn’t help Din escape but you just can’t be. You know they most likely tried but if the roles had been reversed and you could only get one of them out you wouldn’t hesitate.

So there is no animosity. Just a flicker of happiness for them.

They got out.

☆

You were under the impression that a coronation was a happy event. Yet when you step out onto the castle steps it seems to be quite the opposite.

They look miserable.

All of their faces are sullen and dejected. How shocking, no one is excited about Kodo being crowned king. He didn’t have any of the outside of the castle decorated or made presentable in any way. No one reacts when Kodo reads from an ancient looking book until a crown is placed on his head.

A moment afterwards you’re instructed to kneel and a tiara is placed onto your head.

The audience is silent and you feel shame when you stare out at them.

Even if you don’t have very much power you still feel as if you’ve failed them. The feeling follows you when you’re directed to the dining hall with Kodo.

“I have a couple gifts for you, wife.” His twisted smile makes your stomach turn as you enter the dining hall, now decorated with blue and gray banners.

“A gift? You shouldn’t have, my king, I- I didn’t get you anything.” You feign remorse as you take a sip of the wine in front of you on instinct before spitting it back up into the cup.

“That’s more than okay, you’re my gift, sweet wife, all mine.” The thought of such a thing makes you sick, you smile despite yourself.

“That’s very kind.” You’ll only ever be Din’s. No amount of blue fabric and faux smiles can change that. He snaps his fingers and a large box is brought to you by a servant, they set it directly in front of you on the table. You look at Kodo who nods, sitting back in his chair as you stand, the box is wrapped in checkered blue paper, a large bow adorning the top. Your hands tremble a bit as you take hold of the edges of the ribbon, tugging on them until the bow slips free, much to your surprise the entire box falls open, the sides collapsing giving you an immediate view of the contents.

The silver, shimmering contents.

Din’s helmet.

Polished like new, it sits before you, and the room suddenly empties. It’s as if you are completely alone, despite all the eyes that are most definitely pinned on you right now. Your hands continue to shake as your fingers wrap around the beskar steel, like you would when you held Din’s face, lifting it to glare into the visor.

Empty.

You can’t help but stare at your own emptiness reflected back at you.

You want to hold it close, press it to your forehead but you’re snapped back to reality by the grating sound of Kodo’s voice breaking you from your focus on the helm between your hands.

“That’s only one of your presents, open the next one.” He hisses gleefully.

You set the helmet down, realizing there was another, much smaller box underneath it. Silently you scoop it up and cradle it in your hands. It’s a larger than a ring box, it just barely fits in your palm as you ever so gently open it, swinging the top open as if it were a tiny treasure chest.

Huh.

It takes a moment.

You aren’t exactly sure what it is you’re looking at at first but when it registers your entire body tenses up, your grip tightening on the gift box.

Bloody and pink, a tongue.

Of course you know better than to assume Kodo would give you any old tongue. This is a special someone’s tongue.

No, no, no, no, no.

You had loved his tongue before anything else.

He can’t do this, he cannot do this to you.

You had fallen for his sharp wit first, it was what drew you into him. His sweet words had won you back, his declaration of devotion.

Now you hold all of that in the palm of your hand.

“What do we say?” His nasally voice breaks through your mental anguish.

No.

“Come on, where are your manners?”

Please.

“Thank you.” Your whisper is nearly silent as you struggle to keep down the scream bubbling in your throat.

“What was that?”

You clear your throat.

“Thank you.”

He makes you take it with you. You don’t bother telling him you won’t be attending the coronation ball in a few minutes, it’s not like you’ll be missed.

In one arm you’re cradling his helmet, in the other the little blue box.

You set each one down carefully onto the bed, even if it’s a bit demented these are the only parts of him you have left. You stare at the little box.

You have never been hateful.

Kodo made you into this. You are full of hate, for most things at this point. You hate your husband, you hate your room, and most of all you hate the little blue box on the bed.

And the music starts.

It must be deafening in the hall for you to hear it from your room but it’s there, loud and demanding of your attention.

You’re moving before you even have a chance to think about it, in a few quick strides you’re standing beside the vanity, your hands gripping the top of the mirror as you pull it down in one swift motion, the contents spill everywhere and the glass shatters in an instant, shards splattering the floor but you take no time to process it.

You move on to the next thing.

You yank each drawer from the dresser, throwing them to the floor, clothes strewn about until it’s light enough for you to push the entire dresser over. In your frenzy you go about the room toppling every stupid fucking table over. So many fucking end tables in one room, and you throw everyone to the floor, trinkets and vases clattering to the ground as you destroy the room. You get a rush of adrenaline as you lift one of your nightstands and throw it against the wall leaving a small dent but more importantly the force of it makes anything hanging on the wall tumble to the floor, glass frames shatter.

Your chest heaves as you stare at the carnage.

And it isn’t enough.

Your face is wet with tears and your hands with blood from cuts you didn’t feel upon your skin as you tear open the closet door, the pile of blankets mock you from the floor, you grab them, your vision now blurry with tears as you pull them out of the closet, throwing them onto your bedroom floor. When you return to the closet you’re in a frenzy, you tear at the fabric before you, yanking each and every dress off their hangers, ripping what you can.

There is nothing else for you to do, so you destroy everything you can get your hands on until the only thing left untouched is your bed, left in pristine condition as you let out a small sob.

Maybe you are a hateful person now.

You feel as though you have every right to be at this point.

You step over the shard of glass, giving your bloody hands a glance before wiping them on your gown.

Happy coronation day.

You sit on the bed, your trembling fingers wrap around the helmet, now that you’re alone you waste no time to hold it against you face, until your body just gives up, too tired to stay awake anymore.

☆

A guard wakes you in the morning, knocking on your door, when you answer it they tell you Kodo requires your presence in his chambers.

You dress in a blue gown that you don’t look too closely at. Stopping at the fresher on the way, rinsing the dried gore from your palms, wincing as you clean your wounds. None of which seem too deep.

You want to cut Kodo’s tongue out, to make him feel it. But you know that sort of thing would be an impossible task. So you daydream about it as you walk. You’re more than displeased when you open the door and are greeted by Leodall. You hadn’t seen him since that night and from the looks of it he wasn’t expecting you. He swallows loudly when you step inside Kodo’s room.

Normally you’d be curious, you’d probably take a look around but your eyes refuse to focus on anything but Leo as you scowl at him.

“Why’d you do it?” You don’t hesitate to ask, you have no idea how quickly Kodo will be joining you.

He simply stares at you, shame apparent on his face.

“You owe me an explanation at the very least.” You cross your arms in front of your chest as he clears his throat.

“I thought he’d reward me.”

You laugh. A harsh dry sound

“What could he have possibly given you that you couldn’t have just asked me for?” Your gaze never softens and you’re practically seeing red as you stare at him.

“I thought he’d give me a lordship.”

You can’t help it as another crisp and pained laugh slips past your lips.

“You thought Kodo would raise your status? I thought you were supposed to be smart.” Is he an idiot? “He doesn’t see servants as people, if you wanted such a thing you could have asked me, maybe I could have done something.”

A glimmer of something similar to hope flashes through his eyes.

“Would you- would you consider doing so now?”

“You cannot be serious-” Your expression goes from fury to disbelief as you stand.

“It seemed worth asking.” He puts his hands up defensively as you storm up to him, poking a finger into his face.

“You slimy little weasel, it should be you on the chopping block, not him. If it were up to me I’d have them put your head on a spike.” The words pour out of you like venom.

“I would be nicer to me if I were you.” He sneers and your incredulity only grows. You can’t help it, you scoff in his face.

“I would rather die.” A part of you really means it.

“You might if you aren’t careful, I saved your life by letting Elaine and your Mandalorian take the fall, I could have told the king that you were a willing participant. I saw the two of you together, I read your little rules. He never forced himself on you. I wonder what Kodo might think about that.” You aren’t a fighter, you’ve never so much as thrown a punch in your life but you grab him by the collar of his shirt and slam him into the wall, the back of his head hits the stone and you don’t feel an ounce of remorse as you do so.

“Do it.” You tilt your head to the side, almost as if you’re taunting him. “Tell him.” Any of the confidence he briefly had is gone in an instant. “The moment you do I’ll tell him that you’re covering your tracks, and that you made a pass at me. I wonder how Kodo would reward you for trying to touch what’s his?” Leo’s head turns as you both hear Kodo’s piercing voice in the hall. You release your grip on his shirt, brushing off your gown as you turn towards the door. Kodo and three others make their way into the room as Leo coughs behind you.

“Dear wife, I have another gift for you.” He takes a step to the side, gesturing at a line of three people you don’t give so much as a glance. He doesn’t even seem to notice the obvious tension in the room. “A new staff!”

“I don’t need a new staff, I’m fine on my own.” You abandon the pleasantries. You’re in such a state of upset right now, what's the point?

“You’re the queen now, staff is required. These three will replace the ones you've lost in a week, until then Leodall will be training them intensively to tend to your every need. Two guards will also be assigned to you but I promise they will be much less loathsome than your Mandalorian.”

All five of them will be trained to keep an eye on you. To report back to Kodo, after everything with Din you should have known he’d keep you on a shorter leash.

You barely look at them.

You hate them.

You shouldn’t, they’ve done nothing wrong, but you hate them.

You give each one a quick up and down, naming them in your mind.

A BD-3000 droid commands the most authority just based on how she stands so you mentally note her as Elaine's replacement. You’ll call her new Elaine.

New Lysa is a pasty young blonde woman with rosy cheeks. You truly wonder how well informed she has been on your circumstance. She’s smiling from ear to ear and seemingly couldn’t be happier to be here.

And new Leo is somehow even more nervous looking than actual Leo, practically shaking like a leaf at the sight of you. The bags under his eyes are worse than your own. A lanky thing with messy brown hair.

There’s no reason for you to fight this, Kodo always gets his way so why bother. So you nod. You don’t pretend to be grateful this time, instead you shove your way past all of them, content to return to your room and never leave.

☆

The morning of the execution comes before you’re ready for it.

Of course you didn’t sleep last night, how could you?

You dress yourself, apparently your new staff isn’t starting until tomorrow, not that you mind another day to yourself. You manage to find something that isn’t blue, a gray dress trimmed with gold, the closest thing you’ll find to funeral attire. No one else will dress with any respect for him but they can’t stop you. Your vanity is destroyed so you don’t bother with your hair or your makeup, you simply don’t care enough.

For the most part you feel nothing when you open the door, only emptiness until you look down.

Someone left you a small vase of flowers.

You pick them up, taking a closer look but your heart skips a beat when you do so.

Daisies.

After a few short breaths you throw the vase into the wall across from your door, tiny shards of porcelain fly everywhere as two servants at the end of the hall give you a look of horror. Your shoes crunch over the remains of it as you make your way down the hall and to the entryway of the castle.

Kodo insists that the two of you get to see him first.

You’re sweating wildly out on the steps as you wait.

Long before you’re ready for it they bring him out.

A shivering skeleton of a man with a linen bag over his head, immediately bile rises in your throat. Kodo is grinning ear to ear when his legs are kicked out from under him and he’s forced to kneel.

Kodo himself reaches forward and tears the bag off, too excited for any decorum or finesse.

You gasp as you stare down at the broken man before you.

In all honesty he isn’t at all what you envisioned.

His eyes verge on being hazel; they're such a light brown. You’d always pictured them to be nearly black. It doesn’t matter what color they are though, when you see the tears forming in his lash line you flinch, clutching the ring on your necklace to silently let him know silently just how much he means to you.

He’s a mess.

You don’t like looking at what those weeks in the dungeons did to him and the last thing you need to do right now is empty your stomach on the palace steps.

He’s too thin. Far, far, too thin, it’s like his entire being has shrunk down. He’s hollow.

Your breath hitches when Kodo grabs a fistful of his dark hair, forcing him to turn and stare at the crowd. They must have cut it while he was down there it’s a mess, jagged edges and shorter than you’re used to.

“This man has committed an act of treason against the crown.” His voice is loud and booming as the city goes quiet. “For such a crime he shall face the proper punishment.” He yanks him downawards, you watch in horror as Din’s head hits the stone, an incoherent mess of sounds pour from his bloody mouth and you have to look away.

He didn’t want you to look.

You remind yourself to try and calm your breathing. You can hear the scuffle as they drag him to the guillotine, placing his neck into the wooden divot, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest as you turn to look. His eyes are everywhere but on you as he looks at the people around him, desperately pleading for his life. Not a single person so much as glances at him, afterall, it’s just nonsense, no one can understand him without a tongue.

You can’t stand it, you almost cover your ears but you manage to resist as Kodo puts an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“You’re welcome, sweet wife.” He whispers, his breath hot and wet against your ear.

Fuck it.

You don’t suppress the shudder in your spine as you shoot him a look of disgust. In a matter of moments everything you care about will be gone, why pretend any longer.

A bellowing chime plays from a nearby clock tower and you know it’s time, you straighten up as you stare at the guillotine in abject horror.

This is it.

Your chest rises and falls in sharp short bursts as everyone prepares themselves, a hush forming among the crowd on the street.

And it begins, a chain reaction that you cannot stop now that the executioner has his ax raised above his head.

You had expected more. More time.

A part of you thought that time would slow, that you’d have a chance to stop it.

But no.

There is no epic fairy tale moment where the sun glimmers off of the blade and the executioner raises his ax, giving you this perfect moment to run to him, to shield him from the inevitable, to beg them to take you with him.

That moment never comes.

You barely have enough time to close your eyes like you promised him. In one unbroken motion the rope is cut, the blade falls and boom.

Just like that, he’s gone.

When you hear the metal slicing through the air you squeeze your eyes shut, hearing only the wet crunch as it cuts through flesh and bone. A soft, squishy thud when his head hits the stone.

In fashion with your decision to no longer hide your disgust from Kodo you vomit. Bending down you puke onto the stones, spraying your own, and Kodo’s feet. The triumphant smile on his face vanishes as he realizes what’s happened. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, refusing to look at Din’s limp body as you give Kodo one last look of detestation before turning around and running back into the castle, not caring what anyone thinks anymore.

The moment you’re inside the reality of it all settles in as you feel tears falling wildly as you run up the steps to your room.

☆

You have been good, and kind, and in return the maker rewarded you by killing the love of your life.

So when you stand in the center of your demolished room you do the only thing your body can do at this point.

You scream.

From deep within your stomach, you scream, loud and raw.

If anything was left unbroken in your room you’d be throwing it at the wall. But there’s nothing so you scream.

You shriek.

You howl.

And you wail.

You scream until there is no more noise. Your voice, like the rest of you, gives up.

You aren’t sure how late it is when you finally stop. You’re tired and it’s dark outside and your throat is raw.

And you lay on the floor. Because the bed is too big, and too cold, and the closet is so empty. So the only place left to sleep is there. You lay on the floor with no more tears to cry and no more sounds to scream as you stare at your bed, only from this angle can you see a rectangular shape under your bed frame.

You wipe your nose with a stray piece of fabric before slowly crawling over to it, you sit on the floor and when you retrieve the item a brand new lump forms in your throat as you stare down at the box Din had bought all those days ago at the market.

Your failsafe.

With quivering hands you open it, staring into the small space containing a mess of items but what catches your eye is a piece of folded paper with your name on it. You take it between your fingers, opening it, careful to not let your tears fall onto it.

Sarad’ika,

If you’re reading this then I’m afraid things aren’t going all that well for me. There are plenty of possible reasons as to why I’m no longer with you, but what’s important is that I plan on doing everything in my power to get back to you. There is only one thing in the galaxy that could keep me from your side, and if that is my fate then this box will ensure you’re taken care of.

The most important thing is for you to get off this planet. I have included a few possible plans for you, do what you have to to survive. Elaine will help you escape.

You can seek out Greef Karga on Nevarro. Tell him Din Djarin sent you, tell him what’s happened and he will see to it that you are cared for. Explain our circumstances and I am certain he will provide you with safe lodging.

Tatooine is also an option. You’ll find a Mandalorian there by the name of Boba Fett, he will not turn you away. You will be protected there, if you need to relocate for some reason after that he will help you locate the Mandalorian convert. Show the Mandalorians your ring and you will be cared for the rest of your life, the convert will protect you.

As an absolute last resort there is a planet located in the Outer Ring called Ossus. There is a school there, taught by a man named Luke Skywalker. I doubt he would be eager to take you in but you must insist. Bring the chainmail, they’ll know who sent you. Take care of each other.

In this box you will find enough credits to get you off planet and take care of you for several months, a year if you’re frugal, I suggest you take a few jewelry pieces to pawn off for extra credits as well. You will find a small chainmail shirt, and a necklace of mine.

And lastly you will find your vibroblade.

Protect yourself. You’re strong, and more than capable of doing so.

I have one request for you, please, I will only ask this one thing of you.

Be smart.

You are the smartest and kindest person I have ever had the honor of knowing. Be smart, take care of yourself. If the roles were reversed I know that I would go to extremes to either get you back, or find justice for you. And all I can do is ask that you do not attempt any such thing, the only thing I would ever want for you is safety and happiness.

So seek those things out.

Be safe. Be happy.

I was lucky to know you, and even luckier to be yours.

an ner kar'taylir darasuum,

Din

All my love.

You flip the paper over, desperate for more, more Din, but all you find is scrawled coordinates to each location. Your fingers sift through the items, everything he promised is found inside but you latch onto the blade. Laying back down on the floor you clutch it between your fingers as you think of Din.

Din, who was yours.

Din, who they took from you.

Who Kodo, took from you.

And your grip on the knife tightens.

☆

Two guards stand outside your door round the clock now.

They never follow you or come into your room but they’re there, silently watching as you direct all your anger at your new staff. As promised Leo trained them to be as persistent and infuriating as he was.

When the two new girls come to fetch you in the morning you can’t help it when you scream at them to leave you alone and to stop trying to clean the ever growing mess of things.

It doesn’t matter that it isn’t their fault, you can’t stand the sight of anyone.

All three of them try. New Elaine and Lysa show up three times a day, trying to dress you and squeeze their way past you into the room but after enough shrieking they always leave you be.

New Leo usually tries once or twice a day, you don’t even look at him. You always stare at the floor, when he tries to speak you give him the same treatment as the girls, screaming at him and slamming the door.

Why should you let them in? You know what they are. They’re here to spy on you, to be Kodo’s eyes while he’s busy being king. They’re easy to evade. When you leave to fetch yourself food or a book from the library you easily outrun them. The two girls are worse at navigating the castle than you were when you first arrived and new Leo has a bad leg, sometimes he’ll make attempts to limp after you but they’re always unsuccessful.

You think of nothing, day after day because there is nothing to think about.

Except for the fact that Kodo took your future away from you. He took everything from you.

If you thought time was blending before Din’s death nothing could have prepared you for now. You don’t track the days as well, you keep your curtains drawn and only leave when you get hungry or start to think of Din. The last thing you need to do is have another screaming fit so you keep him locked away in your heart, an ache that’s always there that you don’t address.

One day, in a fit of tears you took your knife and decided on a whim to kill Kodo. You didn’t care about the repercussions at that point you just wanted him to suffer but the moment you opened the door you nearly tripped, stumbling backwards the guards didn’t so much as glance at you.

Another vase of flowers.

You’re tempted to just kick them down the hall but you can’t help yourself when you lean down to pick them up.

A bouquet of blue lilies. Your nose twitches at the sight of them, out of the corner of your eye you see new Lysa and new Elaine approaching so you take the opportunity to slam the little glass vase into the stone floor. Glaring at them when you do before returning to your room.

☆

Maybe it’s been three days since Din died.

Maybe it’s been three months.

You aren’t sure.

You aren’t sure when you made plans to kill Kodo either but suddenly you have them. A fool proof way to get him alone.

And suddenly you’re dressed for the first time in, well, however long it’s been. In a baby blue nightie with a robe you march out into the hall. The guards watch in silence as you walk away, your bare feet scampering down the stairs until you find yourself watching the main entrance. Waiting for your loving husband to make his nightly trip to a pleasure house, a trip that is typically accompanied by guards.

You grip the handle of the knife in your pocket as you wait until you finally hear footsteps approaching.

“Kodo, honey?” You step out from behind the stone column, holding your robe closed as you bat your eyelashes at him. He stumbles around drunkenly until his eyes focus on you.

You’ve only used your voice for screaming for so long you sound meek, exactly as you want to right now.

“Wife?”

“I thought maybe you’d like to join me tonight…” You hold a hand out towards him, putting on a sickly sweet tone of innocence. His mouth twists into a grin.

“I knew you’d come around eventually.”

He doesn’t question where you’re taking him, he simply follows.

What a joke.

You pull him up the stairs, you know from hide and seek where to find an empty room so you guide him there in calculated silence until he trips a bit, laughing to himself as he stutters.

“I knew if I got rid of the Mandalorian you’d realize how much better I am than him.” The statement doesn’t sit right with you and he can see it on your face, even in his drunken state he can sense your confusion.

You both stop, you’re above him on the stairs as you turn and stare into his eyes.

“You- you knew?”

He simply nods, that sickening smile of his is plastered on his face. His icy blue eyes shimmer with delight.

“How long?”

“When Leo told me I remembered everything. That little altercation in the hall when your boy knocked me out came right back to me, from there it wasn’t hard to figure out.” Your eye twitches as he speaks.

He knew you loved him and he took him from you anyway.

Any hesitations you had are gone as you nod, pulling him onward until you reach the large vacant tower room. He’s so drunk you decide to just drop the voice, pointing at a spot on the floor.

“Lay down.” You mumble, reaching into your pocket once more.

He eagerly does as he’s told, laying down on the cold stone, you take a deep breath, in one swift motion you grab your knife, holding it behind your back as you toss your robe aside. He gives you a toothy grin as you ever so slowly walk to him, standing above him before sitting, straddling his waist.

You look him up and down, one last time.

Your loving husband.

One of his hands plays with the blue lace of your nightie as you collect yourself. You look up at the ceiling briefly.

I’m sorry.

Not for Kodo, but for Din. This is exactly what he didn’t want you to do.

You aren’t a killer. And you aren’t hateful, but a person can only be pushed so far before something breaks.

Be smart.

You think of Din’s note one last time before you bring the blade out in front of you and slam the blade into Kodo’s chest.

He makes a sickly wet sound, coughing as he stares at you in shock.

You remove the knife, the hot steel cauterizes his wounds, there isn’t so much as a drop of blood as your face twists with fury and you bring it down again into his stomach now.

How dare he look surprised by any of this.

After what he took from you? He deserves galaxies worse.

So you remove the knife.

And you stab him again.

And again,

and again,

and again.

Until there is no more shocked look on his face. You don’t have a snarky remark or a statement to commemorate your revenge, you’re all used up at this point, all you have is this, this stabbing motion.

He didn’t even have a chance to fight back.

You crawl off of his body, sitting on the stones as you toss the knife to the side, waiting for a rush of euphoria.

But it never comes.

It doesn’t feel as good as you thought it would.

Staring down at Kodo’s lifeless body. You let yourself crumble. Collapsing down onto the floor, gasping for air as you sob.

This was never going to bring him back.

You lay there on your hands and knees for quite some time, just wailing, because what else are you supposed to do right now? You realize far too late that this was never an act of malice, some demented and shattered part of you thought that this would somehow bring him back, that it would give you peace.

They won’t execute you.

You planned this exactly so they wouldn’t.

Kodo didn’t tell anyone about your relationship with Din in much detail, not enough for them to assume that you could be with child. Everyone will assume that it’s Kodo’s. They won’t kill you, they can’t.

Not if they think you’re carrying Kodo’s child. Now that Kodo’s dead, there’s no one to tell the royal family that you never consummated your marriage, your child is the most well protected person on the planet. The future monarch. It’s almost funny, you haven’t permitted yourself to think about the stirring within you as a child until just now, in this moment of weakness. A child, your child.

Who will most likely grow up without a mother because of the decisions you've made today.

You bite your fist, swallowing a scream as you sit back on your heels.

Your child will never know how loved they were. Your little one will never get to sit beside their mother while their father teaches them to sew. You put your head in your hands as you wail, no longer caring who hears. Your fate is sealed, what does it matter?

You don’t turn when you hear someone coming up the stairs. When they pull you into their arms you try uselessly to shove them away. Your vision is blurry and filled with tears as you stare up at the unfamiliar figure now holding you. They rub your back, drawing swirls and stars against your spine as they pull you closer.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” They mumble into your hair. You dry your eyes hastily on your sleeve, confused by the voice you’re hearing, it’s painfully familiar, on instinct you wrap your arms around their torso, pulling yourself into their lap as you both sit on the floor beside Kodo’s body. “You’re okay, I’m here.”

“I’m- I’m sorry.” You whisper against the stranger's shirt. You knew you weren’t hateful. You’re certain of it now because even though he took quite literally everything from you, you still feel bad when you look at Kodo.

A large hand cups your face, pulling you back to their chest so you can’t see the corpse anymore.

“I didn’t mean it- I- I didn’t mean to kill him. Well I did but I just-” You begin to ramble as a fresh flood of tears begin sliding down your cheeks.

“Hey- hey it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. We gotta get you cleaned up, okay? I’ll take care of this, I’ll fix it.” Their arms tighten around you, giving you a reassuring squeeze. You finally find the courage to look at your companion and it takes a moment for you to even realize who you’re looking at.

New Leo.

Why would he help you? You treat him like shit. When you look at him he looks like he’s about to cry and for the first time since Din was taken from you drop the walls you’ve put up and you let yourself feel bad for him. You show an ounce of kindness to him because in all honesty he’s the first person to make you feel safe since the night Din was taken from you.

A lighthouse while you sail through a storm.

So you hug him.

You pull yourself closer to him and you offer him a comfort you haven’t known for days.

“I’m sorry… for all of it, but especially the flowers, I should have told you, I just- you wouldn’t let me and the guards wouldn’t let me in without your permission and you just wouldn’t look at me.” He begins to mumble his own apologies, sending a surge of confusion through you.

You furrow your brows, pulling back once more giving him a perplexed look as you search his nearly black eyes for some kind of answer.

And it clicks.

All at once it snaps into place and you want to say his name, so desperately, but you’re terribly afraid of being wrong.

And then he smiles. A soft smile that makes you feel okay and you don’t even care if you’re wrong and you don’t care if it doesn’t make sense you just have to ask.

“Din?”

☆

a/n : yeah so uhhhhh yeah uhhhh this is the first chapter i've ever written where im actually very fond of the writing and nervous about the plot stuff so im gonna go hide?? and just vanish for a while lol

I don't have a tag list anymore !! follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates!!

#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #pedro pascal #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you

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melwilson · 2 years

Text

flustered and bothered

bradley “rooster” bradshaw x f!reader

rooster can’t help being so attractive and you can’t help but to admire him.

bradley bradshaw was a sight for sore eyes. and most of the time, even before you started dating, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. it didn’t matter if he was cooking, working out, sleeping, or just simply talking- he was captivating like that. and he knew it.

whenever bradley walked into a room, he had your full attention. it was annoying really, how much he had you wrapped around his finger. people would point out his tan skin, or his whiskey colored eyes, or his smile, or his too tight wife beater that left little to the imagination. the physicality that was rooster bradshaw was enough to grab anyone’s attention, but for you it was his presence. knowing that roos was right there with you brought you peace you thought you would never have because of your association with the military.

however, his physical features did play a big part.

like right now.

you’re sitting in penny’s semi-crowded bar with pheonix as she gives you the inside scoop on this weeks edition of navy aviator gossip. you’re supposed to be listening because, truly, you love good drama. however, your pilot boyfriend looks too damn good. he’s at a table with fanboy and coyote, a beer of his own in his hand. he’s wearing one of his dad’s old tee shirts in that dark blue color that seemingly accentuates his tan. his aviators hang loosely on his wife beater, hair perfectly imperfect.

“y/n, you live with that man,” phoenix says in playful disgust. at the same time, your boyfriend sends you a sly smirk holding your gaze as he takes a drink of his beer. damn him. “you could be less obvious in how obsessed you are.”

you shoot the brunette a glare. “i’m not obsessed.”

she scoffs at that. “okay, you’re just overly committed to watching your boyfriend exist.”

you shake your head in disbelief looking over to see that rooster is no where to be found. maybe you are obsessed? “you’re unbelievable, phoenix.”

she smiles. “unbelievably making my exit.”

you furrow your eyebrows in confusion until a familiar pair of hands find your waist.

“ladies,” rooster greets.

“lieutenant bradshaw,” phoenix salutes. “needing a little aloe vera, now are we?” she gestures to the top of his chest, noticeably red.

rooster flips her off, one of which she returns happily before heading over to grab another drink. he spares no time stealing her seat and your attention.

“someone’s being not-so-subtle tonight,” he says tugging your stool between his legs.

you can’t help the embarrassed heat that crawls up your neck and makes your breath hitch. “stop being so damn fine.”

“you and i both know that is an impossible request.”

you groan in annoyance. “i know. i know. it’s just people keep saying i’m obsessed-“

“you are.”

“no, i’m not,” you argue. “i just- i just like admiring you.”

rooster chuckles, leaning over to kiss your pouted lips. “no one said it’s a bad thing, baby. i like having your eyes on me. and you wanna know what like more than that?”

you sigh, gaze on your intertwined fingers. “what?”

“having my eyes on you.”

you scoff, shoving the whiskey-eyed man away gently. “you’re such a flirt.”

“yeah, for you,” rooster teases, “i like getting you all flustered and bothered.”

you roll your eyes for seemingly the thousandth time in an hour. “i hate you.”

“you’re a terrible liar,” he replies standing to his feet. he moves between your legs, hands cupping either side of your jaw to tilt your head back to look at him. your hands instinctively find his waist, fingers gripping loosely at his shirt.

“i know,” you say under your breath. you take a moment to really look at him. his skin is glowing in the yellow bar light and he’s adorning that soft, goofy smile with a childlike glint in his eyes. his lips are a little chapped because he never wears the chapstick you buy him, but you know they’re still soft regardless. “you look really good right now, roos.”

he hums, thumb running along your jawline. “oh yeah?”

you nod tugging him closer. “you gonna stand here and keep teasing me or are you gonna kiss me?”

he shrugs weighing his options. “i don’t know…teasing you happens to be my favorite pastime.” he laughs when you respond with an impatient huff. “i’m kidding. kissing you is definitely my favorite pastime.”

“then prove it.”

so he does. he’s aware of his surroundings and the fact that his fleet is going to be making fun of him the next morning, but that doesn’t stop him from taking your breath away. he kisses you deeply, lips settling your impatience. when he pulls away, you kiss him once more. twice. three times.

and then he says, “just so you know, you make me all flustered and bothered too.”

#bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick #top gun #miles teller top gun maverick #miles teller #miles teller x reader

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onlyseokmins · 10 months

Text

the devil wears baby blue • h.j.s.

Pairing: joshua hong x afab!reader Genres: smut (minors PLS dni!), strangers to fucking lol Warnings: joshua hong himself 🚩🚩, swearing, alcohol, reader is a menace and tease too i'm ngl, grinding, groping, slight exhibition kink, degradation, name-calling, objectification, FINGERS (all of it fingering, riding, etc), mentions of knife/surgery, choking, wbk but major hints to big cock josh 💔, marking, licking, alluding to devil imagery uwu, roleplay sort of but not really, kind of public sex acts + a mirror, manhandling, lil slaps, dangerous fashion decisions + "fun" clothing shenanigans during sex ig????, mentions of car sex and oral sex (male rec.), dirty talk (joshua won't stfu), edging, lil bit of pain kink if you squint ❤️‍🩹, and tons of banter/insults, is there a thing like a wealth kink??? - as always lmk if i missed smth WC: 7k A/N: *taps mic* would love to thank @onlymingyus and @duhnova for proofing, hyping, and supporting me on this. also ofc a huge honorary shout out to @hwanghyunjinenthusiast for the constant cheering and screeching at me in and out of dms - hope you enjoy this hehe. idk if jackie will see this but her watch post(s) helped re-inspire me to attack this wip. and finally blowing kisses to the joshushushus in my inbox, i hope you'll like this! ps if anyone recognizes where the last dialogue is from, you receive a kiss on the forehead from me and get to spend one night with joshua!! 😏

↪ this is a loosely based prequel to idiot

Seungkwan's hand lays steady on your back, guiding you through the crowd much more efficiently than you could have on your own. He has a way of navigating through the waves of people with practiced ease whereas you would rather just be swept away. It's why you enjoy going to the club with him, especially one as crazy as tonight's.

You would think you were still on the dance floor with how many people are bustling around you, mingling and giggling just as much on the sidelines as they do moving to the music. Drinks in hand, they chat and flirt with one another so it takes nearly twice as long to make it to the bar than you think it really should.

"This better be worth it," you shout directly into your friend's ear despite how close you are to him. "For the amount of times my feet have been stepped on!"

There's a sharp pinch from his fingers that snuck to your side. "Told you not to wear those stupid shoes."

Though you can't exactly hear it, you can see how his pouty lips purse out in a huff. He's also grumbling under his breath and you're able to catch bits and pieces. Things like, "won't matter" and "swept off your feet anyways" and "don't blame me" make you roll your eyes.

"Acting like this is my social debut with the prince of wales."

"Someone's been watching too much Bridgerton. And with how often you fail to come —" he's interrupted by the loud thumping of the bass, "makes sense."

"You can't possibly compare me against your standards, Mister Social Butterfly. You know everyone… and you've probably screwed a lot of them as well."

Seungkwan can only guess a gist of what you actually say and is therefore mildly tempted to let you get lost in the sea of people like he knows you'd rather prefer. But he's finally made it all the way over to what seems like an impenetrable social circle, though the group readily parts to make room for the two of you to squeeze in. So, he'll have to bring you along for the adventure.

"Hey there!"

"Hello!"

"Fancy seeing you here."

"I know, right?"

Greetings are easily interchanged. Most of them are familiar faces — friends of your own or people you've gotten to know simply through Seungkwan's ever-growing collection of new instagram posts.

Jeonghan's got some poor new soul to flirt with again and Seokmin looks like he'd rather be at home watching cooking videos. Vernon is wearing headphones of all things while Seungcheol has a shit-eating grin on his handsome face. And you instinctively know Mingyu has to be up to no good because you don't see or hear him.

Not that you're actually paying that much attention to the same-old-same people, focus naturally drawn to the tall man standing next to Wonwoo. Light brown hair curls just beneath his ears, shaggy enough that the urge to run your fingers through and imagine what the tug of strands between them might feel like consumes you. It comes as a shock, considering that Jeonghan's had the same style before and you've never felt like this.

You drink in the baby blue shirt that compliments the mystery man's skin tone, top buttons left undone to showcase the delicate silver around his throat and framed by collar bones. The fabric's elegance belies the strength of the body it clothes, material straining tastefully in the tiniest bit over a broad chest and wide shoulders. Sleeves rolled up to accentuate the flex of his forearm down to the long, long fingers wrapped all the way around the glass of alcohol held between them.

"That's Joshua Hong," Seungkwan supplies helpfully though he can't hide how smug he sounds observing you and shares a knowing look with Vernon who snickers.

"Joshua Hong," you repeat and enjoy how easy his name sounds and feels coming off your tongue. "Is that so?"

"Yeah and to my knowledge, he's extremely single."

"Don't tell me that's how you introduce me to other people."

He feigns innocence. "Can't recall but even if I did, bet it's going to work in your favor. Don't look now but it seems like you've caught a big fish."

Of course, when someone tells you not to look, the first thing you'd logically do is look. Glad you weren't caught staring earlier now that the very same man you were drooling over has noticed your existence and is staring directly at you.

Brown irises drop down to scan your figure and the suggestiveness of it lights something deep within you. You're quick to nudge off Seungkwan's arm around your waist when Joshua's eyes linger a second longer on it than you'd expect, ignoring your friend's sassy mutter of "hook, line, and sinker."

"I… I really don't like that implication, 'Kwan."

"Sure you don't."

Joshua Hong's intent gaze is far from unsavory. Even if it was more perverse in nature, you think you'd feel drunk off the same amount of power it fills you with and you haven't had a single drop of alcohol yet. A swear word escapes under your breath at the dampness of your back — and elsewhere — before sending the admiring man a demure smile of acknowledgement and turning once more to Seungkwan.

"You were criticizing my shoes earlier?"

"'Cause you can barely walk in them!"

"Then let's put these bad boys to good use."

Your friend can only shake his head as you stride away. He'll keep an occasional eye on you from afar for the rest of the night but he has a hunch things will be… fine. He hopes. Wonwoo did say Joshua was a decent man, after all.

He'll have to be… if he's willing to put up with you, Seungkwan thinks to himself with a cringe as he watches.

Vernon hands over a much appreciated beer and he sidles up to the unbothered man's side, jutting his chin out in your direction and asking, "Are you ready for some entertainment?"

"Yo, always bro."

"Cheers to that."

Meanwhile, you've made it to the new company without stumbling once — something you're very proud of. You nod at Joshua. Nothing more than a soft flutter of eyelashes, alerting him that you're aware of his presence but indulging in nothing more. Instead, you choose to lean comfortably into his companion's space.

"Hi Woo, care to share?"

The bespectacled man wordlessly offers his nearly empty glass of wine, always easygoing and ever perceptive. Unlike his best friend who never fails to be endearing but can't take a hint to save his life. One of the many reasons why Mingyu has never succeeded as a wingman — unfathomably clumsy but still loveable in all aspects to steal everyone's heart involved.

You finish the rest of Wonwoo's drink off with a satisfied hiss at the taste but not without a snort. "I didn't mean that, silly."

He cracks a smile, returning the teasing with a fake, reproaching scold of your name. "Could've told me you wanted to steal my buddy and not drain all my alcohol!"

Joshua laughs — loud and clear above the din of noises surrounding you. It has an air of gracefulness to it and you're sure the club brightens in a way that's totally not from the strobe lights going crazy.

"So, this is Seungkwan's friend…"

You jab Wonwoo's side with a huff. "Hey, I'm much more than that!"

"If it's any consolation," Joshua cuts in with another laugh and a handshake, taking on a self introduction. "I'm just some guy named Joshua. Hope that doesn't disappoint."

"Just some guy, huh? One that wears a Royal Oak?"

He thrillingly doesn't let go of your hand, keeping a firm but gentle grasp when turning it with his to properly glance at the notorious status symbol wrapped around it. The steel casing glints just as fiercely as the sapphire glass over white gold hour-markers embedded on its face.

"Yep, still just some guy that's called Josh. Joshua Hong, to be exact. Scared you off yet?"

"I wear heels that have a one hundred percent chance of breaking my ankle to a place where there's a terrible combo of dancing and drinks. But you think I'd be scared by a pretty boy wearing thirty-some jewels around his wrist?"

He steals another appreciative look up and down your body. Not as fiery as the first one but still bold without shame, striking another bolt of heat that flashes through your veins and simmers in your lower abdomen.

"Taste. And bite. I'd expect nothing less from someone like you."

"Someone like me?" you scoff as he winks, taking a step back and extending your arm as far as it will go with the notion for you to follow.

"Dance with me?"

Wonwoo had quietly faded into the background and slipped away for another refill. Smart guy. There's no one to worry about leaving behind when you accept this unfamiliar man's invitation and let him whisk you in the direction of the dancefloor. But not before catching Seungkwan's mild and supportive yet watchful gaze before he raises his beer in a mock salute.

It's almost cute at how inept Joshua is maneuvering through the tumultuous flow and ebb of moving bodies compared to said good friend. The way his taller frame looks more like a poor cruise ship tossed helplessly in the waves of the ocean than the stationary lighthouse and its reassuring beacon you'd expect causes a chuckle.

"You're almost as bad at this as I am."

He shoots an apologetic smile at the same time someone once again jostles his shoulder, pushing him closer into you. "Nightclubs really aren't my scene."

You're not complaining about the aided proximity that lets you hear what he says without strain. Although you do try to match the beat as it changes to something more sensual yet still playful. Going along with the rhythm of the other dancers rather than against much smoother than Joshua's awkward attempt to mimic. He sticks behind you, failing to hide the blatant mesmerization at how you sway effortlessly to the beat.

"You're not bad at this at all."

You shrug. "I've been here often enough to blend in better than most. So tell me, what's a rich boy's usual scene then? Shanqin Bay's clubhouse?"

"Hah, you wanna come with me sometime and find out?"

"Only if you can promise a fun experience… oh," you throw a smirk at him over your shoulder, "and to cover all the costs, of course."

"A pretty thing like you would have anyone saying yes and wrapped around your little finger."

"Maybe, but only if they're worth my attention."

"Afraid to disappoint yet again when I spend most hours of the day in the operating room."

You turn abruptly to face him, grateful for the hand that shoots out to support your elbow despite his surprise at your dubious side-eye. "Are you a doctor?"

"Maybe."

"Director's son?"

"Cliché enough for you yet?"

"I recall someone who's wearing a Royal Oak saying I had good taste so I'm not going to complain. Though it would have been quite the story to hear you were the one under the knife," you take a step closer and slip a finger underneath his silver chain to tempt him closer, "to end up looking this good." When large hands hesitate to land on your hips, you raise an eyebrow. "Thought a surgeon would have a steadier grip."

"Oh." Brown eyes flicker with a carnal desire, focusing on your lips. "You expect me to be a rich, talented playboy and not be naturally handsome too?"

"Sorry, Doctor Hong but there has to be at least something wrong with you."

The polite smile he'd been wearing all night quirks up at the corners, changing into something more on edge. A little dangerous. Beckoning excitement. He spins you back around, hands solidly landing on your sides — this time without reserve — to prevent your lower bodies from touching and changes the subject back to when you approached Wonwoo and him.

"Do you always take drinks from guys?"

"Ah, hm. Just the good ones."

"Good alcohol?" His breath is hot against the ear he's speaking directly into. "Or… good boys?"

Biting your lower lip does nothing to hide the unfettered glee you're feeling. "Alcohol, of course." A breathy sigh and you take the leap. "Want a taste?"

There's no need to ask twice. It's like the right key turning its lock. The doctor's initial awkward movements are nowhere to be found as one hand smoothly leaves your hip, turning your chin toward him to meet you halfway with his lips ready to brush against yours.

At the last minute, he backs off and turns your chin to its original position of facing forward with a smirk you can't see. Who cares about a missed kiss when his other hand slides across your stomach? Urging you to press your ass backwards and grind against the very obvious bulge that his khakis do nothing to hide.

Its growing hardness and promising length cause you to automatically moan, arching your back with the feral need to feel more. Your head tilts to the side, hips swiveling and swaying not to the beat but the rise of his cock. The position willingly grants Joshua access to lick, suck, and bite at the exposed skin.

He hums along to the music with a melodic voice from what you can hear, though you find more enjoyment in the consistent vibrations against your neck. A naughty hand plays with the tucked-in hem of your blouse and an occasional finger teasingly slips under the waistline of your jeans.

You can now feel Joshua's smirk when in turn, your fingers tangle in the bottom hairs of his mullet. His lips curl up, moving to nibble behind your other ear and breathe in your scent. As delightfully predicted, there's a distinct pull by your rings when you tug them free from the strands that has him pausing. Eliciting a sharp hiss and equally as sharp — but appreciative — thrust against your backside.

In retaliation, the lax hand caressing your throat tightens around it ever so slightly while he growls in your ear, "You said there has to be something wrong with me, right?"

"Mhm, oh yeah. Totally."

"Wanna fuck around and find out, beautiful?"

Hook, line, and sinker was damn right, Boo Seungkwan. Of course, the devil would be wearing a shirt the same shade as the sky where heaven's clouds make their home.

And you eagerly take the forbidden fruit — his hand, once again — and teeter after him. The red flags are already starting to fly at full mast but into the dimly lit hallway you go, elated to find an empty and quiet corner right before the stairs leading down to the bathrooms.

Underneath the neon glow of the exit sign, Joshua pins you against the wall with your arms laying on his shoulders. If you thought the attacks from his mouth were rough on the dance floor, they turn ten times more animalistic now that he has something to support you with other than strong arms and big hands. A pair of soft lips and the warm wet tongue between them contrast with the digging in of his teeth that follow your necklace chain to its adorning pendant.

It hangs in the v-neck window of your blouse and he lets out a tiny grunt of displeasure at the breasts being concealed away by the fabric and its many buttons. That doesn't stop him from tugging the bottom of the shirt free like a petulant child, nothing preventing his fingers now free to tickle and feel up the bare skin beneath.

This man is good at distraction. You don't think much of the light grazing beneath your tits, only a fleeting and casual touch. It feels so good when he cups under them like an additional support for the bra you're wearing and squeezes, causing you to keen and push yourself further into him. Then quick as lightning, one hand sneaks around the back to unhook the bra's clasp and the other deftly unbuttons your jeans.

"Joshua!" you squeak in protest, stepping back and pressing flat against the wall. You're quick to rush and slap a hand against your chest to keep the beloved strapless bra that's served you well from falling to the ground. "Is your red flag undressing someone in public?"

"Only if you insist 'cause surely I would never decline such a request being the gentleman that I am." The doctor makes no further move despite the way he licks his lips and teases, only chuckling at the menacing way you squint. "Just know my full intentions are to be touching all over and especially under whatever layers you're wearing very shortly."

There's no use hiding the whine that escapes when he places a hand on the wall next to you and leans in with a smirk.

"However, sweetheart… "

You catch his line of sight dart off to the left and your heart plummets, the fear of being left high and dry (wet) setting in. "Josh — "

"You'll have to forgive this rich boy's schemes. You see, I've always been very spoiled and just have to take what I want right away. And you're much too irresistible…"

He speaks casually. Like your jeans weren't suddenly unzippered and he isn't currently running a tantalizing finger on the fabric below the waistband of your panties, causing them to soaken further down. Way more than they already had and almost where you need him but also not even close in the slightest.

"Though as a rich boy," he continues, "I'm more than familiar with providing a small courtesy here and there. Would this club's filthy bathroom offer enough privacy for you, gorgeous?"

"… Only if you make sure I'm presentable enough to get down there… and back up here after, for when I have to leave with my friends."

Joshua's eyes widen before he's throwing his head back and laughing, bright and cheery like he's not going to rearrange your guts. "So you don't expect to go home with me? Maybe I won't be such a walking red flag to you."

"Doubtful. Now fix me up, Doctor."

"With pleasure."

It's not like there are as many people milling about as in the main area. Still, it's good to be conscientious. The same adept hands re-fasten your top undergarment efficiently. When he ducks his head to kindly fix your pants — which is sort of hot — you take the opportunity to whisper in his ear for shit-and-giggles to gauge his reaction.

"You know there's a front clasp too."

He glances up from where he's eye-level with your covered breasts, eyes darkening. Bingo.

"What a little whore we have here, hm?"

The nonchalant, degrading question and burning desire in his gaze makes your knees weaken, arousal skyrocketing. Enough that you almost throw all caution to the wind for him to fuck you. Right here, right now. But then he's pulling away, offering a palm you can't seem to refrain from taking a hold of. And ever the true picture of being a gentleman — helps you descend down the dark stairwell.

Your killer heels really do nothing for you physically (besides the threat of rolling an ankle) because it doesn't matter how tall or short you end up with them on. It's the confidence and ego that are heightened exponentially, which is all that matters.

That's why you follow Joshua Hong into the sketchy bathroom, let him lock the door, and bat your eyelashes with a coy smile. Leaning against the sink and fussing with your blouse as he approaches like a predator eyeing up its prey. Greedily drinking in the bare skin revealed by each button that's undone until only one is still fastened — right across your tits — that the man can unclasp himself if he so chooses.

Barely anything stopped him before anyways.

And that's what also fuels you to put your arms around his neck, pressing your bodies close together. Even closer by hooking your right leg across his hip, the point of your heel digging intentionally into the back of his other thigh. It's hot and hard — the dick bulge that keeps growing pressed tightly into the snug warmth of your core — and Joshua lets you grind down and dampen his khakis for a few moments longer than expected.

"Desperate, aren't you? Didn't wanna fuck in public 'cause you're freakier behind closed doors?"

"Just a little." You fight back the urge to whimper or admit anything to him. Like you aren't humping his length that only swells more and feels achingly thicker the harder you rut against it, eyelids fluttering the few times it's able to deliciously spread your pussy lips just the slightest through your clothes. "I'm so wet — "

"The more of a mess you leave on my pants, the longer I'll have to edge you while waiting for them to dry." Joshua grins cockily at you trying to force your hips to stop themselves only to struggle pathetically in vain. "Think you'd like that. Haven't even gotten to fuck this hot little cunt yet and I'm already certain I wouldn't mind being buried in there for hours. But don't know if your friends will stick around for that long…"

"J-Josh, ah — Shua… mhm!"

"So I think you'd better behave if you know what's good for you," he stills your hips hard, "fuckin' slut."

You mewl at the hard, rude thrust that bumps your clit as if he was actually fucking you. Like goo, you let him manhandle you around so you're bent over and facing the smudged mirror, hands gripping tightly to each side of the sink basin. Aided by the reflections, you witness how he shamelessly ogles the tempting ass that's been rubbing all over him all night. And of course that means you have to perk up and wiggle your hips, giving him quite a show.

The small distance between you clears the lust cloud and you throw a smoldering glance over your shoulder. "If you fuck me with my heels on, I'll give you a chance with them off."

Joshua swats your ass — not very hard but you release a yelp of surprise. "Wasn't aware that you were running the show, sweetheart."

"It's my backside you're looking at."

"Knew you were mouthy the minute I saw you. You're aware of how kind I am, so let me give you a choice." He's anything but kind as he sighs and leans his weight over top of you. Despite the bracing strength of his arms, you feel suffocated by just being caged in between them and the overpowering scent of his cologne. "I shut you up with either my fingers in your mouth or around your throat."

Oh… decisions, decisions! Long fingers that would surely feel best deep inside your pussy but that wasn't one of the options. You purse your lips in thought and arch up, balancing the heavy cock supported by your ass and unconsciously pouting. Joshua has the audacity to look at the time while brushing back his hair and clicks his tongue.

"Wow, I'm letting you choose between sucking on my fingers like a slut or being choked like a whore and you still can't decide? What a high maintenance toy."

The urge to scoff is extremely strong. "Sucking it is then, Doctor Hong," you say sweetly and then add with a sneer, "like the perfect slut that I truly am."

"When your friends all said you were nothing but a gentle soul, I knew they were duped. Only one was partially truthful in saying you could be sassy which doesn't even come close. Little do they know there's a bratty cockwhore with quite a bite underneath all that charm."

"Haven't fucked any of them, that's why. No plans to either."

"Yeah, what was it you like — oh right, good boys?" He laughs — low, mean, and degrading. "Then what am I, sweetheart?"

"A doctor who's full of himself and needs taken down a few, ha, pegs."

"Ah, there it is." Joshua undoes the final button, slipping a curious finger beneath the bra's front hook pulling your tits together. You shiver when it snaps against your skin after he retracts, pointer finger tracing a lazy line up your throat to its final destination. "The attitude."

You willingly part your lips, lolling your tongue out mischievously to match the roll of your eyes. "Someone gets off on it."

"Is that so?" He smears the lipgloss on your lower lip by pulling it down before releasing it. "Do you think this is all a coincidence, darling?" Meeting the hardened gaze in the mirror, you shake your head. "The minute I saw such a sparkling gem on Wonwoo's story, I just had to have it for myself."

It's not hard to guess what he's referring to. A couple weeks ago, you wore enough scraps of fabric to just cover your nipples and the areas between your legs. Drinking far too much and hanging off of the WonGyu duo's broad frames while the whole gang partied it up together at Vernon's. You had even asked them to send you the videos and pictures after because damn, you did look hot as fuck.

Who knew it would be bait for an entitled pretty boy?

"At least you waited to find me when I wasn't drunk."

"Much more fun to break someone sober."

"Glad to know consensual exists in your vocabulary."

"How about it — will you let me destroy this little pussy of yours and ruin it to keep you crawling back to me for more?"

"Sure, if you ever stop talking and actually do something — "

Joshua's quick to shut you up, almost cracking your jaw with the harsh thumb that's jammed in the corner of your mouth to prop it open. The following two fingers are thrust cruelly inside as a replacement so it can move to keep your chin steady. They're able to reach so far when pinning down your tongue, ending up wedged near the back of your throat so you're already gagging around them.

"Most sluts behave the second I drop the nice guy act. But boy oh boy, it only makes you act up more, eh?"

He finally does away with your bra to allow those gorgeous tits to spill out and casually rips the garment from your body like it's personally offended him. Maybe it has. Shoving it away into his back pocket and then urgently tugging your jeans down. The binding position you're left in helps keep your shaky legs in place while you cling to the sink like it's a lifeline. Upper body supported only by the cruel hold he has on your face until he yanks it back so you're flush against him instead, the cool baby-blue silk of his shirt set ablaze by your shared body heat.

"Next time, wear something that has easier access. Or better yet… maybe nothing at all or I'll be forced to rip it off." A piercing set of eyes attempt to glare into yours that roll back delightfully despite what's likely some snark ends up sounding all jumbled. "Oh yes, there will be a next time, sweetheart. I have to train this cunt to yearn for my cock — and you don't think you'll get it that easily, right?"

Joshua chuckles darkly knowing you can't reply. But liking to be full of surprises, you relax your upper jaw while his fingers trail across your pelvis and close your lips around the ones in your mouth. Suckling and swirling once the tension in them relaxes despite the naughty thought of biting. That doesn't eliminate the occasional graze of your teeth as a threat, responding to his words in your own way.

"Just look at yourself, slobbering all over… bet you suck cock like a champ. And prolly like it real messy. How well-trained you'd look trying to balance on these pointed heels while I fuck that bratty mouth."

You moan at the visual he's painted in your head.

"That's right, darling." There's a mean pinch to your clit followed by the man's groan at the ruined fabric squelching between his fingertips and how the covered little nub was already begging for friction. "Now tell me how long your cunt's been warming up and soaking these drenched panties?"

"Since the beginning…" you admit once he's freed your sore mouth and chooses to bully your breasts next. "When you looked at me."

He snickers, pushing your underwear to the side and petting at the bare slippery folds. Just able to barely see a small glimpse of where his actions play with your lower body in the mirror. At least your expressions make up for what he misses seeing.

"Aw, this soft pussy started drooling the minute I laid eyes on you? While I was imagining all the things I could do to these tits," the hand on one of them palms at the rounded flesh hard. "This ass," his pelvis grinds in a slow circle against it. "Mhm, and of course, this hidden gem."

At that, a thumb brutally rubs at your clit while plunging a finger inside the warm, wet walls that eagerly pulse around it. You weren't wrong about how good the digit would feel inside, the length and stretch of its bony knuckle feeling good enough to substitute as a mini-dick when Joshua starts a slow and methodical pace with it.

"Thought about having you spread out in the backseat of my Bugatti La Voiture Noire, you'd look like a vision laying across its leather seats. And the best thing? No one can see inside so you'll get your much desired privacy while being right out in the open."

Then he's adding another finger, longer than the first. And finally one more with an additional push in and out of the others. Clearly his experience on how to work a pussy is more than helpful. Alternating between stuffing your hole full of all three or changing up the pace and number each turn.

And of course, your chest is attended to as well. Both nipples tugged in iterations to match the rhythm of each finger spearing into your cunt, the pendant of your necklace bouncing in time. Without fail, he hits the bundle of nerves with a deadly precision that has you going slack against him.

"Maybe we should do that 'cause," he mumbles in your ear, "this filthy hole is awfully good at convincing me to spoil its owner like no one else. Let's see if it can tell me how much it'll want me to fill it up one day."

Your ears ring with the devastating screams of white noise at the sudden stop. The moans you were letting out trail off into a dissatisfied growl. His hand falls away from your upper body while the one in between your legs merely sits nice and snug, still inside but not moving. Far too relaxed, limp even.

"Joshua!"

"C'mon, weren't you listening? Convince me."

"Fuck you," is what you spit out, glaring at the challenging and impossibly smug reflection of the menace behind you.

"You didn't say fuck off, so… I'm waiting."

Another check at his watch like he's bored infuriates you enough to move your hips. Whining at how his fingers fail to stiffen and only follow your pitiful motions back and forth. Out of protest, you reach behind and take a harsh hold of the hard length you're able to grab.

"Watch it, darling!" Joshua flinches and the way his cock twitches dulls the venomous words that come next. "Or I'll leave you here all needy and by yourself, waiting for some other pathetic dick to hop onto in order to satiate just a little bit of this wet and slutty pussy's behaviors."

Well, that idea doesn't appeal to you whatsoever so you lean on the sink with a huff to do what needs done. It's a struggle to stay balanced on your heels while grabbing at his wrist but a small part of you knows he won't let you fall, a bicep supporting under your breasts. Revenge comes sweetly by digging your nails into the tense muscle of his forearm and leaving scratch marks that have him hissing.

And now you know for sure — despite the doctor's incredibly huge ego and big talk, Joshua Hong's no better than a painslut.

"Hah," you breathe out and start to slowly rock your hips. "Disrespectfully, go to hell."

Ignoring the abrasive insult — because he's a demon anyways — Joshua focuses on the wet suctioning sound growing louder the faster you move. The feeling of your tits and necklace hitting his arm to the beat of your hip bounces and enjoying the view of how his fingers disappear beyond the jiggle of your asscheeks. Up into the tight heat of velvety walls as you force his hand to behave and serve your needs like one of your dildos, though they've never been this uncooperative.

"That's it. Yeah, there we go… just like that. Go ahead and make yourself cum riding my fingers, beautiful. Uh-huh, now who's using me like a little whore to get off?"

You're already losing yourself. Waiting for that rising wave to crest because despite his annoying mouth, Joshua's fingers are more than skilled enough to hurl you into a delightful climax. As long as nothing interrupts it.

"Answer me — or I'll make you choke yourself."

"Mhm…"

He likes seeing how your face contorts, moans getting louder. It's too addicting which is why he growls out, "Do it."

It's a feat to let go of the sink but the reward is to move his arm around your bra-line to your throat, making his hand envelope it. The visual in the mirror is depraved — limbs all wrapped and tangled with each other — and your half-closed eyes taunt the searing gaze in the mirror, repeating his words right back.

"Why not do it yourself, Doctor?"

"Are you some sort of succubus or what?" He spits out the question like it's the germs on the toilet seat next to you. Freeing himself momentarily from the grip of your hand and your cunt, the man's at least nice enough to assuage the pissed off whine with a consoling lick up your neck and tugs impatiently at your pants. "Take these off."

"Go fuck yourself," you mutter darkly with half the mind to walk out of there. But you do as he says, quickly shimmying them off while your clit buzzes and twitches angrily at the neglect of stimulation again.

Joshua's eyes don't look away, his hands steadying your hips and your pussy aching when you hear how he slowly slurps on his fingers to clean them. Once you step back into your heels, he throws the jeans over his shoulder.

"Careful with the phone," you threaten.

Joshua snorts and bends over to secure a strap for you — sucking harshly on the skin of your thigh as a "you're welcome" but pulling away before your hands can tangle in his hair and keep him down there.

"Wrong thing to say to someone who likes broken and expensive things. Shouldn't you be warning me not to break something else?" Suddenly, your other shoe dangles precariously off your foot when he uses a strong hand to lift and support your leg onto the sink's surface. "Like this poor pussy?"

The straining burn in your muscles and the added chill of the porcelain is all alleviated by harsh rubbing at the tender skin of your entrance. Middle and pointer finger eagerly prying sloppy pussy lips apart once again.

"Ah, but I might enjoy that."

A clear glob of arousal drips from your hole fluttering and clenching around nothing. Joshua leers hungrily past your shoulder at the mirror's erotic display of your exposed cunt and the wetness shining under the buzz of the bathroom's fluorescent lights.

"Dirty and yet it's such a pretty little jewel. Sparkling and glistening so, so lovely that I can't wait to watch it shatter while playing with it."

Finally, all three fingers from before work in tandem to scissor repeatedly inside of your tight warmth without forgiveness. This time, the devil has nothing but good intentions to send you over the peak of pleasure. His eyes can't stop feasting on the raunchy way your greedy hole gobbles up his fingers. The loud squelches accompanying his motions echo around the small enclosed space, mixing with the warm breath hitting the side of his cheek from your gasping moans.

Joshua thinks it's mighty cute how puffy your outer pussy lips grow and struggle to spread around the thick and long digits shoved inside plus the onslaught of his thumb bullying your clit. The angle shows the slightest bulge of them relentlessly stroking the bundle of nerves that has your leg twitching from the sheer pleasure.

He focuses on bringing you there, all on what you're feeling rather than his own pleasure because you have the most convincing cunt ever that deserves to be ravaged by a large, girthy cock. A shame it has to wait because he cannot give in so easily. But you're definitely a piece of work. Joshua likes that.

"Gonna keep making a mess on my fingers, darling? Leave 'em all sweet and wet enough for me to wrap around my dick later and pretend it's your pussy instead."

You'll be the death of him when your head rolls into the crease of his neck, drool dampening the skin as you mouth senselessly at the vein protruding beneath. There's a sharp sting — the certain kind he hasn't felt in a very long time. A telltale warning of a hickey, the beautiful colors of red and purple already rushing to the surface and decorated by little nips of your teeth after you soothe the pain with your tongue.

No one marks up Joshua Hong. Sure, he's had lipstick stains before but those can easily be swiped off with a handkerchief and washed away in the shower. He can't help but smirk though, knowing when he eventually wipes your sticky lipgloss off, something of you will remain for a bit.

However you can't go without a little punishment. If you can even call it that when he returns to wrapping a hand around your throat. Anyone else who dared to leave a mark would be walked away from. But you — you simply lose enough oxygen causing your head to spin more pleasantly than it already is.

And you claw at his forearm, scratching it up ten times more to serve as a further reminder for Joshua to look at. You're by no means urging him to stop but to earnestly keep going while simultaneously searching for something — anything — to anchor you down as you float into an almost unconscious state of pure ecstasy.

It's by far the strongest, most intense orgasm you'd ever experienced. Becoming nothing but a bag of bones in his arms as your walls pulsate around his fingers and the fruitful expenditure of your release drips down his wrist.

He stays in that position, unable to move anyways with the vice-like grip of your spasming cunt cramping his fingers. Instead, drawing out the pleasure as much as possible by squeezing and releasing the pressure on your throat over and over again. The true picture of debauchery — heaven and sin mixed in one — and he kind of wishes for a third arm to take a photo for a keepsake.

Everything in your body aches deliciously. You feel both refreshed and exhausted when you finally come to and even then Joshua supports your weak body as you try to regain control over your wits and whereabouts.

"Pants," you croak out and wave him off when he tries to gentlemanly assist. Which he still kind of has to when you almost topple face-first on legs that feel like jelly. "Bra."

Joshua's a little less enthusiastic to hand that over, bitter sarcasm lacing his words. "Wow, won't even grant me a souvenir?"

"Boo-hoo," you gripe back and pretend not to notice the eyes glued to the way your tits bounce when adjusting the garment around them. Turning to look in the mirror, you work on dulling the "just got fingered in the bathroom" appearance. "It's not like you need one and it seems even less likely you'll keep anything from a stranger, especially lingerie."

"Hm, I like how well you read me."

"Of course you do, fuels that large privileged ego. Don't get used to it. But, want me to do something about that one though?"

He coughs at the rather suggestive insult, shifting his pants and shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide the messy boner you're referencing. "Guess I did a great job if you're begging for it already."

"Oh, for goodness sake I'm being courteous."

"Cute."

Joshua admits it almost like he's startled by the words that escape his mouth. Further surprising both of you with a clumsy, sloppy kiss to the cheek when he leans over to fasten the top button of your blouse. As if embarrassed, he's already halfway out the door when he remembers to mention, "I'll be thinking of you darling, look forward to your call!"

You're left staring at the saliva spot reflected on your cheek in shock. And then, you wipe it off with the rest of the accumulated sweat to make yourself a bit more presentable and then head back to the club as naturally as possible.

Dr. Hong is seemingly nowhere in sight as expected. You figure it would be hard to return with a raging boner despite the low lighting and he probably left through the back exit to likely jerk off in his ridiculously expensive car. The visual of white ropes of cum streaming past the steel band of the Royal Oak around his wrist haunts your mind, making your aching core buzz to life again and your sticky panties even grosser.

Out of pure spite, you hope he stains his shirt too.

Luckily, Seungkwan is still at the bar when you wobble over in search of him. He shouts your name in mock shock, assessing your appearance with pursed lips and eyeballing your figure dubiously.

"You look like hell."

"Yeah?" you laugh it off as nonchalantly as possible, unaware of the phone in your back pocket lighting up with a returned text message from a newly saved number and a scandalous picture attached. "I just got back."

#ez.creates #svthub #joshua hong smut #joshua smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #kpop smut #smut #hong joshua smut #hong jisoo smut #if this flops so does the hong schlong #i fist fought this joshua in the parking lot and WON #svt.smut

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harryforvogue · 5 months

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a blurb where harry is a big schedule guy and yasmine is a big "it happens when it happens" girlie. they fight (sorta).

***

Harry and Yasmine have never lived with other people after moving out of their homes, and they alternated whose place they’d be staying at back in graduate school. It was always an unspoken rule that if Harry was at Yasmine’s house, she was the boss. And vice versa.

But now that they're living together, how are they supposed to adjust and split responsibilities? More importantly, how the hell are they expected to create a rhythm?

Harry is a very structured person. Gets out of bed at a certain time, has lunch at a fixed time. Dinner as well. He considers himself a pretty laid back guy too. He’ll skip cooking some days to order takeout – or swap his laundry days with his bedsheet changing days just to switch things up. Yasmine calls him a relentless Aquarius. He's not supposed to be offended, right?

He’s always known that Yasmine is… less serious about all that. So, really, he always knew what he was getting himself into. Especially when it’s nearly 11 on a Sunday and Yasmine’s still buried in the sheets, gripping him tight to keep him from slipping out of bed despite his groaning about how he just wants to take a shower and eat something. (Probably the worst habit of Yasmine’s is skipping breakfast nearly every morning and that’s just not something he’s going to stand by.)

After graduation, Yasmine and Harry are employed at different universities, and the first few months are filled with settling into their new jobs. Their work hours are very similar, with the exception of Wednesdays where Harry has a later recitation class to teach. Regardless, Harry went into the new job with the mindset that he’d always get all his work done on time so that he and Yasmine could focus on figuring out the layout of their place still. Not to mention, Harry’s dedication to at least 2 dates a week (and going grocery shopping is NOT a date no matter how much Yasmine insists it is).

He has a calendar in his office above his desk that tells him what days he needs to get his deadlines done so that he and Yasmine can have some time for themselves. He crosses out all the things he gets finished and circles the days he’s free.

Yasmine is the opposite. She always gets everything done, but it’s never as planned as Harry. She has the ability to sit down and bang everything out in one day … and also the ability to procrastinate until the night before.

It’s baffling to Harry. Harry’s routine is annoying to Yasmine. Really – where’s the fun in all that planning? And what if something suddenly comes up and there’s no wiggle room to fit in a doctor’s visit or something just because you’ve meticulously scheduled all your work to be back to back on weekdays.

This comes up one day when she’s working and he’s bringing her dinner to her study.

Harry pulls up a chair on the other side of her desk with his own plate. “Yasmine.”

“Mhmm.”

“If you’d gotten this done yesterday, we could have gone to the shop you wanted to visit.”

“We can go during the weekend. I can’t just align everything with your schedule to free up some time.”

Harry smiles, but it’s clearly tense. “We get home at the same time, Yas. If we can just finish all our stuff for the next day of class before, say, 5pm, we have the rest of the day to be together. Doesn’t that sound great?”

Yasmine glances up at him over her glasses. “I don’t want to do more work as soon as I get home though. I want to relax.”

From Harry’s face, she knows he’s thinking about the hour-long nap she took on their couch as soon as she came home.

“Right, but. Now it’s almost 8 and we won’t make it to the store on time.”

“We’ve got weekends for that.”

His mouth twists into something that’s very much not a smile. “We’ve got other stuff to do over the weekend, remember? We agreed on two dates a week–”

“No. You decided that.”

Harry stops. He tilts his head back to look at the ceiling in an attempt to calm himself down. When he looks back at her, he reaches across, shuts her laptop in a not-so-nice way and says, “What?”

Yasmine crosses her arms over her chest and leans back in her chair. “Well, you said the two dates thing. I think going to the shop counts as a date.”

“Going shopping isn’t a date. Having a romantic time out is a date.”

“Any time I get to spend with you is a date, Harry. It's about being with you, not where we go.”

“Have you maybe considered that I want to take you to restaurants and little getaways simply because I enjoy them too? That I like to see you have fun with me?”

Yasmine sighs and takes her glasses off. She rubs her eyes tiredly. “You clearly have a certain work ethic. And there’s nothing wrong with that, but I don’t. I get my work done when it gets done and I don’t want this structured, super formal scheduling of our time together. We live together, Harry. I see you all the time. Isn’t that enough?”

He doesn’t say anything for some time, but it’s clear he’s taken aback.

“It’s not enough,” he says, anger in his voice. “It’s not nearly enough. We’re dating, Yasmine. We’re not roommates.”

Yasmine blinks. “We technically are roommates.”

He runs a hand through his hair. Yasmine knows she's pushing him more than necessary. "Don't do that."

“All I’m saying is that I don’t want to schedule times with you. Won’t that be boring? Like, oh! It’s 6pm! Gotta go watch a movie with my boyfriend. It’s 7. Gotta have dinner. It’s 8, we should probably have sex before we get too tired. I’ve never had that type of schedule and I don’t want to.”

“It’s efficient.”

“I’m not having sex with you at 8pm every night just because it’s efficient. What -- are you going to break up that time too? 15 minutes for foreplay, 10 minutes for--"

He looks really mad now, his eyes alight. “That’s not what I mean! I’m saying that if we’re on the same wavelength – if we’re getting all our work done on time, then we can spend time together. That’s all! You're being way too difficult just for the sake of disagreeing with me.”

Yasmine frowns deeply. “Why don’t you adapt to my schedule then? I get all my work done too. I’ve got Saturday and Sunday’s open too – just like you.” From Harry’s expression, she exclaims, “See? It’s not about our time together. It’s about us sticking to your routine.”

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. “We live together now. Don’t you think we should have some sort of rhythm? Be in sync?”

“That’s boring Harry!”

“It’s–”

“Don’t you dare say efficient!”

“It is!” Harry stands, putting distance between them. “This is ridiculous, Yasmine. And you have no right to say that I’m only making you adapt to my way of living.”

“Why can’t we live my way?”

“Because you don’t have a way! You get up and you just make things up! I can’t do that. I want to have breakfast together, lunch together and dinner together. I don’t want to be eating alone while you’re working just because you didn’t want to finish everything before 6. This past week alone, we’ve yet to do anything but ask about each other’s day because when I’m working, you're not, and when you’re working, I’m done with everything. You see the problem?”

Now, Yasmine can handle Harry when he gets like this. She’s put up with him before – and she’d be lying if she said she doesn’t see his point. He wants to spend time together as a couple. And he’s figured out a great way to clear up time for himself. Now he wants her to follow his regimen.

But the thing that makes Yasmine get angry is his volume. He’s got no right to yell at her.

And, okay. He’s not really yelling. He’s just annoyed and getting his point across loudly. But, it’s too late.

“Clearly we’re not going to do anything together tonight so why don’t you just let me finish my work and then we’ll talk about this later.”

Harry grabs his dinner and starts to leave her office. “No, we won’t be talking about this because by the time you’re done, I’m going to be asleep!”

“Well maybe don’t sleep so early?” she snaps back.

“Why should I change my schedule to match yours?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you!”

“You don’t have a schedule!” Harry says, visibly trying to keep his head from exploding. “You do things whenever you feel like doing them. So whenever you realize you’re more than a roommate to me, find me.”

He shuts the door behind him, leaving Yasmine alone in the room.

***

Harry can hold a grudge.

Yasmine, as fiery as she can get, has harsh anger hangovers. Once her anger at Harry is gone, she goes to find him. Sure enough, it’s late and Harry’s already in bed.

So she gets ready for bed too. And when she slides in, she waits for Harry to say something. He must still be angry because he doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t even turn to give her a kiss.

Yasmine sighs to herself. He’s the one who never likes to go to sleep angry, so she inches closer to him and rests her head on his shoulder. “Harry.”

No answer.

“Harry?”

Nothing.

He’s not wrong, but she’s not either. So she sits up and pokes his biceps hard to wake up just in case he’s already out. When he offers her nothing, she huffs and rolls her over him, looking at him sideways with half her body draped over his arm.

“Hey.” She goes back to poking, this time on his face. “Hellooooooo.”

“What are you doing?” he grumbles, turning his face away. Yasmine finishes rolling over so she’s now on his side, looking up at him. She nearly tumbles off the side of the bed, but Harry’s quick arm on her waist prevents that.

"Yasmine," he hisses.

“Let’s talk about it.”

“I don’t want to. Go back to your side."

“Oh come on. No going to sleep angry, remember?”

“I’m not angry. I’m annoyed. We can definitely go to sleep annoyed. In fact, I can't think of anything else I'd rather be doing."

“Hmm, no we can’t.” She tangles her legs with his. “Harry. Look. I understand what you’re saying. But I’m not going to apologize. I don’t think we’re that type of couple that needs to do everything together.”

“Not what I was saying but thanks for showing me you were listening."

She rolls her eyes. “I get that you want to spend time together, but don’t you think blocking out certain hours of the day is kind of ridiculous? It's so military."

"Military?"

"You get what I mean."

“Yasmine, if you had a 9 to 5 job, what time would we have to be together?”

“That’s not fair considering we don’t have 9 to 5s.”

“Say we did.”

“We’d have time after 5 and weekends.”

“Wouldn’t that be a schedule?”

“Well I don’t imagine we’d do something every day. I love you, but I do need to be away from you sometimes.”

Harry’s jaw tenses. He closes his eyes again. “Goodnight.”

“Hey wait, I didn’t mean it like that!” Yasmine laughs, throwing her arms around his neck. “I only mean that we’d get sick of each other.”

“I’d never get sick of you.”

“You’re saying that now but if we’re attached at the hip, then I’m totally sure–”

Harry’s eyes open and he grabs Yasmine’s face, tugging her close. “Never,” he says, voice deathly quiet. “I’d never get sick of you.”

She stops laughing, eyes wide. Something flutters in her chest. And…elsewhere too.

"Fine," she says, all breathily. "It would be a schedule, but only because we'd have no other option. We have flexibility as professors. We have more time, but more work load we bring home. It's not the same thing."

The hand on her waist tightens and suddenly she’s beneath him, his entire body hovering over hers. He lets go of her face, but leans down to kiss her instead. She holds him tight, her fingers tangled in his long curls that keep falling into their faces and tickling them.

“Harry,” she murmurs against his mouth. “Why are you so worried about us spending time together, hm?”

“I haven’t had a single meal with you all week, and I just remembered that you spent Sunday catching up on work, which is unfair because I forced myself to finish all my work so that I could have time for you. I don’t want to be the only one doing that.”

Yasmine sighs. “Harry, I’m not working just to avoid you.”

“I know that. And I know that us living together is enough for you. That sleeping and waking besides me is good, but it's not nearly enough for me.” Then, quietly, “I’m being petty about how you get your work done. But Yasmine, I didn't ask you to move together with me just so I could see you every day. I want a life with you." He traces her cheek gently, kissing the corner of her mouth. “And you’re right – we don’t have a 9 to 5 but is it so wrong for wanting to cut out a part of my day just for us? No talking about work. Just you and me, with a lot of this, preferably.” He kisses her again.

She's getting all mushy inside again. “It’s not wrong,” she whispers. “It’s not.” She wraps her legs around him, making him lean all her wait onto him. He holds his out against the mattress to stop himself.

“Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“No. Lay on me."

Harry does so, just for a total of five seconds until she’s gasping for air. Satisfied, she rolls out from under him and lets him lay comfortably. She straddles him then, bracing her hands on his chest. “Okay, let’s come to an agreement.”

Harry runs his hands up and down her thighs. “Let’s.”

“How about this: no talk of work after 7.”

“6.”

“Done.”

“And I will try my best to finish all my work by then also, but in the event I cannot due to circumstances overlooked in your calendar, you have to leave me to finish up so that I can come back to you as quickly as possible.”

“Done. And on weekends, nobody works. Don't bring any of it home on Friday. Not even a mere word about it.”

“Unless absolutely necessary.”

He pins her with a stern look. “I’ll be the judge of those conditions.”

“Anything else, professor?” Yasmine grins knowingly down at him, drumming her fingers against his chest.

Harry pinches her side. “And I will be a little less annoying about the whole two date thing.”

“And I’m sorry that I’ve kind of neglected you all week.”

“Thank you.”

Yasmine blinks expectantly at him.

He says, “Oh, are you waiting for an apology from me?”

“That would be nice.”

“Is that right?”

She feels a thrill rush up her spine. “I’d appreciate it.”

“Yeah? Would you, baby? Good to know.”

“Or you can make it up to me in a different way.”

He shrugs. “Sorry. It’s almost 10. I’m strictly a no-love-making-past-eight-pm kinda guy.”

Yasmine sighs. “What a shame. And to think I went through all this effort coming to bed without a bra or underwear on in hopes I’d get to–”

Harry sits up and wraps his arms around her, roughly pulling her down into bed. “C’mere.”

#this is #not good #but listen i wrote something #and that's enough in my book #i agree with harry in this fic btw and as i was writing it i was like.... are we the problem???#whatever #harry and yasmine #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles x oc #harry styles x woc #harry styles fluff

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wherevenusholdssomeofficespace · 23 days

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Linda Flynn-Fletcher

I think Linda Flynn-Fletcher is potentially one of the most misunderstood characters in the show.

It think comes from a natural enough place. Her role in the show is of course, to act as the potential threat to their summers of fun. While they boys never see her as a threat, narratively she's the big bad. If she sees it, its game over.

Here's the thing though. She's a not a bad mom. Her children LOVE her. Similarly to how Phineas and Ferb absolutely adore Candace and would do nearly anything she asked, Phineas, Ferb and Candace all love and respect their mother and don't disobey her. Now a bit of this is clearly Linda being a more permissive parent, but any rules that Linda has Phineas and Ferb never do anything to disobey their mother. While I wouldn't be surprised if there were one or two instances where Candace disobeyed her mother willfully, the closest I can think off off hand is Candace not doing a bunch of chores that she was supposed to do. Really, the fact that all her kids love her, shows how much all her kids feel loved in their household. And I think that's super important. Candace wrote a song about how much she feels loved by her mom, even if her mom is dismissive of Candace. But she still goes with Candace to see what the boys are up to even if she doesn't believe it. She sets boundaries on how often Candace can bust the boys sure. But she hasn't forbidden Candace from doing it altogether. Nor does she punish Candace for presumably lying?

At MOST Linda will say something like: "let's get you out of the sun" after a failed bust. The worst of it I think is probably the time Linda made her promise not to try or suffer the Pharaohs curse. Which, was just some guy in a Pharaoh costume telling Candace curse you. Linda goes out of her way to read books to try and deal with her daughter. She and Candace still clearly hold a lot of affection for each other and do spend a decent amount of mother daughter time together. Linda gives books to her daughter, tries to direct her to other activities, and finds her sleep busting cute, and sometimes goes out of her way to do activities her daughter wants to do with her. All things considered Linda is REALLY patient about Candace's busting. Could she be doing more to get to the bottom of why Candace is presumably acting out? Sure. But Doofensmirtz could also be doing a better job of listening to his daughter and not insulting her (or do we not remember why Vanessa wears earbuds around the house) but we all call him a really good dad.

A LOT of shows have kids hiding a secret from a parent for one reason of another. But while the crux of the show rests on Linda not knowing what her sons are doing, its not because its a secret. The boys aren't hiding it from her. The boys genuinely believe she knows. Lawrence genuinely believes she knows. Candace is the only one in the family who really grasps the situation.

Linda's ignorance, her disbelief of the wild shenanigans that her children get into is easily mistakable for normality. For representing the oppressive day to day. The same thematic antagonist as school. A mom who wants whats best for her kids, and thinks that whats best for them is them being normal, without realizing what's really best for them. After all why else we saw what would happen if she found out in Quantum Boogaloo. But the fact of the matter is aside from that one future (which also featured an effectively evil leader in Doofensmirtz, and therefore implies more factors at play than just Doofensmirtz and Linda's characters), we don't really know how it would play out in the long term. Future Linda even just kinda moves on after discovering the truth.

Linda is exactly like her kids. She just does the same things on a less physics breaking scale. The woman has like 37 different hobbies. She takes a cooking class, donated an art sculpture, is part of a jazz group. She has a background in astrophysics. She was a pop star. She won a meatloaf contest. She takes french lessons. The fact that Linda has several hobbies is part of the reason the formula works at all. Linda is constantly trying new things which gets her out of the house, while her sons are trying their own new things. Her absence is what prompts Candace to have to go looking for her. Also, What Do It Do when the moment Linda gets put in Candace's position she acts the exact same way.

Also it's why she and Lawrence are so compatible. They have a lot of weird hobbies they spend together. She likes Lawrence's history references. They watch car racing together. They went spelunking together. They go bowling regularly enough to have equipment. She has played the bagpipes while Lawrence danced (which sidenote: do you think she taught Candace how to play the bagpipes?).

Not to mention her extended family. Think about it. Her mom was a competitive roller derby skater who once bit a skate and shook it like a dog with a chew toy and pulls elaborate pranks with her identical twin. Really she's a lot like Candace with her aggressive passion. Her dad apparently won a balloon race, but tells the story in the most straightforward way possible, sometimes very oblivious, but is overall a lot like Phineas. Her sister is an adrenaline junky. And back to Quantum Boogaloo for a minute: Her granddaughter is just like Candace, Grown up Candace is a lot like Linda. Do you not see the implications!!?!?!? LIKE???? DO YOU NOT REALIZE THAT LINDA WAS PROBABLY A LOT LIKE CANDACE AND PHINEAS WHEN SHE WAS YOUNGER?!!?! YOU THINK IT SKIPPED A GENERATION OR SOMETHING???

Do you think Linda used to complain about Tiana??? Do you think Linda thought her family was weird and was embarrassed by them??? Do you think Linda ever called herself the only mature/normal member of her family?? LIKE CANDACE DOES????

Anyway, Linda is just like her family. Sure, she is RELATIVELY more normal, but that's relative, and probably simply because the universe bends itself around to keep her from knowing. Linda literally cannot find out about the real nature of her universe. Linda is just a grown up version of her children, seeking to make the most of each day, but within the bounds the universe has set upon her, both as an adult woman and mother, but also in the laws of physics expected of her. But she still makes the most of her life. You don't have to build a roller coaster to make the most of each day and all that.

I think if Linda is representing anything its that even parents can have rich fulfilling lives. Where they make the most out of each day. Having fun with your life doesn't stop with adulthood. Even if you have more responsibilities doesn't mean you can't have fun? Sure childhood is something you can't get back but growing up isn't inherently bad either?

#pnf #phineas and ferb #linda flynn fletcher #The woman is a former pop star #and has a secret background in astrophysics #you would think that would be enough but nooo #i generally don't care to comment on the suspected neurodivergent status of cartoon characters #because neurodivergency exists in the context of society #and cartoon characters exist in a completely different context #and when characters are inspired by real people (like Linda being inspired by Dan's sister) it can get messy #but if Phineas and Candace and Doofensmirtz are ADHD so is Linda #she just has adult woman flavor ADHD #aka the reason that woman and girls go underdiagnosed or are often diagnosed with anxiety instead #I think we often don't recognize how frequently she forgets things #I'm thinking back to that one time she forgot the “stuff” at the grocery store #she stayed up all night making last minute pies #working up to the deadline on an art sculpture #at one point runs out of contacts (presumably because she forgot to get more)#gets overwhelmed when planning the block party #and that's just what I can think of off hand #anyway I will not stand for Linda slander

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momotonescreaming · 1 year

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Stardew Valley inspired AU where Steve works some boring corporate job for his father and he's absolutely miserable. His father has high expectations for him that he can't ever seem to meet, his mother just fawns under her husband's harsh gaze, and no one at work likes him because he's the bosses son. Doesn't seem to matter that his father doesn't like him much either.

So when he gets a call from their family lawyer, saying his granddads old farm has left legal hell and is officially his, he's very tempted to drop everything and leave. Get out of the city, escape his family, get a fresh start. The only thing holding him back, is his best friend Robin who also lives in the city. She tells him off for letting her hold him back. She'll miss him horribly, but she knows that he wasn't happy working for his father. He just has to promise to send her postcards and letters and to call her as often as he can. As soon as he’s settled she is going to visit and that is a fact Steve, you better get used to it.

Steve puts in his notice at work, cancels the lease on his apartment, and starts packing his things. He buys a trailer to hitch to the back of his Beamer to pack up all his stuff, has a very tearful goodbye with Robin, and drives to the small town of Hawkins.

He spends most of his time that first month getting everything sorted. Gives the house a deep clean, moves in what he bought of his stuff, and figures out what he still needs to buy. Does a check of everything he needs to repair or replace on the farm. Spends a lot of time clearing rocks and overgrown bushes and weeds and trees off of his land. Reads some books and takes some online classes on farming. Is determined to actually make this work.

Eddie has lived in Hawkins since he moved in with his uncle. Always had dreams of moving to the big city and making it big with his band. But for now he's still in Hawkins, working at Thatcher Tire, living with his uncle, trying not to get sucked into small town gossip. It's hard not to though, not when one of the local high school kids starts a rumour you're a cult leader because you run a DnD club and he thinks his girlfriend is cheating on him. It fucking sucked, but Eddie managed to graduate from high school the third time round, and the rumour mill slowly moved on.

Now, all everyone can talk about is the city boy who moved into the old abandoned farm just down the way. Apparently he's very handsome, very single, and looks like he hasn't worked a day in his life. And sue Eddie, he's fucking curious.

The first time Eddie meets the elusive city boy is at the post office, some months after he moved to town. The guy asks for the time, and politely introduces himself as Steve, the guy who's doing up the old farm. And the Hawkins gossips are right - the guy is handsome as hell. Carefully styled swooping brown hair that looks impossibly soft. Tanned skin dotted with moles. A tidy polo shirt that should look dorky but instead just really suits the guy. Fitting tight across his chest and straining against his biceps. For a supposed city boy, the man is unreasonably ripped. Maybe he is meant to be a farmer.

And then once they meet, it’s like the universe is playing a trick on Eddie because he can’t stop bumping into the guy. He sees him jogging through the city and Steve waves at him with a wiggle of his fingers. He sees him hiking through the woods with his new farm dog in training trotting after him happily. They’re in the supermarket at the same time, and they make small talk about food and Steve jokes that his stove is so old it’s like he has to teach himself how to cook all over again. Eddie goes to Merrill’s farm to drop something off for Wayne, and Steve is there, sleeves rolled up, glistening and sweaty, doing odd jobs on for a little extra cash.

A navy blue truck rolls into Thatcher’s one day, sturdy, big, with a small dent in the side. Good kit. And lo and behold Steve steps out. Clad in his usual blue jeans and a tight polo, twirling his keys around his fingers. He asks if there’s room for them to take a look at it, give it a service, or does he need to book in later? And Eddie says he’s free. There’s a lot of other things he needs to do, cars out the back to check over, but Steve is here. And so Eddie take a look at the truck so he has an excuse to talk to Steve. Asks him questions if there’s anything wrong with it, does he need to check anything in particular? And they chat, and Eddie brings up the beemer. Mentions it off handedly — did Steve swap it out for a truck? Something more farm appropriate?

And Steve just tilts his head like a confused puppy. Eddie know’s he has a beemer? And before he can think about it too much, Eddie says of course he does — it’s not every day that a handsome city boy rolls into a town like this in a fancy car like that. And Steve raises an eyebrow. Handsome? he asks. Eddie curses at himself under his breath. He could have pulled the mechanic card, said he keeps an eye out at all the cars in Hawkins. But of course he lost his tongue in front of the pretty stranger. But Steve just says he’ll take the compliment and smiles at Eddie in a way he hadn’t before.

Before it was small town polite — making conversation at the gas station or a smile of acknowledgement. But this is different. This smile is more. And so Eddie blushes, and rolls himself under the truck to hide his blushing cheeks. He thinks he hears Steve chuckle, bit graciously follows when Eddie steers the conversation away from the face he finds him pretty and onto a safer topic — farm.

And Steve sounds so genuinely excited when he talks about it. He finds the physical work really satisfying, he’s looking forward to getting to the point where he can actually plant crops. Wants to get a chicken coop, see how that goes, before he moves onto livestock. He likes the early mornings on the farm where he can watch the sun rise over the fields. He feels himself there on the farm.

Eddie jokes that the early mornings sound awful, he’s a night owl through and through — but the sunrise sounds nice. Steve laughs and says that's fair, he had to start waking up early in high school for swim team practice and now it’s ingrained into him. Handy for the farm now, which is a plus. Eddie admits that he’s been to the farm before — feels weird not too now — that he hopped the fence when he was teen and wandered the fields and the woods, having a smoke and a poke around. Steve is cool about it. The place was abandoned, and he would have done the same when he was young. He’s not as uptight as he looks — he had some semi-wild teen years of his own.

They talk, Eddie looks at the car, and then before he knows it — he’s done. The truck is all good. Runs like a dream. It’s time for Steve to pay and leave. And they’re both loitering in the doorway to the office, and Eddie knows it’s because he’s actually starting to really like the guy. He’s passionate, and kind, and also kind of a bitch which was delightful to find out. He’s handsome as all hell and is a genuine fucking guy. And he doesn’t want him to leave.

He looks over at Steve. Steve, who bites his lip, pink and plump, before looking up at Eddie through his lashes. And sorry if this sounds dumb, but does Eddie want to come visit the farm? Have a look around when it’s not abandoned and overgrown?

Eddie feels his cheeks flush, sees the identical blush now gracing Steve’s cheeks, and says yes. It’s a date.

#this has been sitting in my drafts for like a month i want it done and posted #so here you go if someone wants to run with this please be my guest #Stranger Things #Stranger Things AU #Steddie #Steddie AU #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Stardew Valley AU #My Writing

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leclsrc · 1 year

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Hello!! May I request a charles leclerc fluff drable where he's like always staring at y/n (in a non-creepy way hehe) and like just has a big crush on her even when they're dating already type of thing? or something? tysm!

something – cl16

Looking can be so similar to loving—just ask Charles.

auds here... title from this. also i feel it is the one of the best ‘so enamored ur moving in slow mo’ songs...

A blue dress. Deep blue, satin, wrapped around your figure like you’re a dream that’s his.

There are moments where Charles’ world slows when he sees you, and this is one of them, a year into dating. Suddenly he feels like he’s a teen seeing his first racing car, or a kid seeing Star Wars all over again. Nothing else matters but this—but you, in this deep blue dress, your arms swinging around as you dance to the upbeat music that plays at this dinner party.

Someone’s clutched your hand and twirled you around, so quick your hair falls over your face. He wants to pick you up, let his hands wring around your waist and hug you close, close, closer. He wants to wipe the hair from your face, press a kiss to your cheek, then your nose, then your lips, taste the martini there, smell the sea and the two spritzes of perfume on your jaw.

You move in slow motion, every ripple of your dress, every tendril of hair over your eyelashes. You’re laughing, tipsy, when your friend hugs you close, moving the both of you into a shitty waltz. Jesus, you’re so pretty.

“Charles!” You’re saying. He blinks, and your eyes are meeting his, smiling with the rest of your face. The French summer has tinged your cheeks with the heat, your left shoulder peeling with a sunburn. Even now in the evening, when it hides, it’s managed to follow you still, blinding and beautiful. An arm stretches out, a hand, then a finger. Come on, you’re saying, dance with me!

It’s your favorite song that’s playing, some disco tune that has you hopping excitedly, hips swaying in the kind of way he can’t ever get his eyes off of. He knows this because it’s one of the ones at the top of his Spotify statistics, what with how often you’re using his phone to launch impromptu dance parties while cooking or cleaning or driving.

So he does, gets up from where he’s been sitting while everyone else dances. He’d been undoing his tie, then two buttons on his polo, nursing Scotch (between you both, you like to say, he’s the boring drinker and you’re the fun one.) You shimmy your shoulders when his hand locks with yours, a smile stretching onto your face when he pulls you close and wraps the same arm around your waist. The song hasn’t yet reached its crescendo, so you sway softly, smiling like idiots.

“Hi, beautiful,” he says, eyes lidded from the alcohol and the feeling of being this near you.

“Hey there, handsome. Here often?”

“Just passing by, actually.” He pauses. “I saw a beautiful girl from the entrance and couldn’t help myself.”

You laugh, letting him twirl you as the chorus begins, both of you moving to the ever-familiar beat of this song and using the same moves you use at home, when it’s just the two of you. That’s exactly how it feels, though: like it’s just you both, dancing and laughing. When he finally moves your hair aside and presses a kiss to your lips, the world slows all over again.

—

His world whirs into slow motion when Pascale is laughing at one of your jokes.

“I’m funnier than your son,” you say when she’s wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. Across the brunch table, finger tapping against the white linen tablecloth, Charles’ eyes are stuck on you. Nobody notices his stare of adoration, because it’s so usual, so ordinary, for him to be looking at you so intently, and with so much love.

You’re wearing a white dress that you’d been wiping your palms over nervously in the car, asking him to repeat a crash course of his family over and over until it was the only thing your mind was capable of retaining. Yet for all your nerves, you’d blended in exceptionally well with everyone at the table, over salmon and pasta and tea and biscuits.

Pascale had ushered you in with the urgency of every mother, a hand around your shoulder, pointing out members of the family, fixtures on the wall. There’s a story behind everything. Behind stains, scratches, pictures, peeled-off labels. You’d let her tell you everything.

A smile makes its way onto your face when you see Pascale fail to stop laughing over your joke, her hand clenching yours. Your eyes meet his, and he can see the excitement in them—the joy of having this happen. He hopes you can read him equally well, hopes you can see how excited he is, too, for this to be happening, for you to be so loved by the people that matter most to him.

A hand comes up to tuck hair behind your ear, lips pursing to prevent your smile from widening. No, he wants to say, I want to see you smile. Everything. Show me everything. You’re beautiful.

“You really are,” says Pascale, and the two of you turn to smile softly at him. This is love, he thinks, and he wishes time never quickens ever again.

—

The book this week is Love in the time of Cholera. You try to read one book every two weeks, but lately you’ve been forgetting—last night you’d firmly resolved to start again, and you’re hooked on the words already.

The thin blanket of your bed is the only thing shielding you from the cold, your bare back turned to him as you continue to read the chapter. Charles sees you and wishes he was half as good as you. You’re stupid, you’d said with genuine concern when he told you this once. Have you even seen yourself? And you praised him, listed every last amazing thing about him.

Still, he wasn’t convinced. There may have been awards and videos and celebrations for him, but he wishes he was good enough for you sometimes. Your intelligence, your wit, your beauty. Your ability to get up and read a book in the morning. Your capacity to love. He can’t believe you’re his, all his, this beautiful girl is truly all his.

His world slows again, time ticking into slow motion as he watches you passively. Every few moments there’s the sound of the page turning, and your slow breathing makes up the rest. He wants to paint a picture on your back, make you his canvas, so he can think of another way to convey his immense, all-encompassing love for you.

Genuinely, he thinks he’d be incomplete without you. He conveys this in the way he stares, the way he admires, like you’re a sculpture in the Louvre and he’s at the front of the line. But he’s the only one in line, and he’ll be damned if somebody shows up behind him.

You pause; the noise of the blanket rustling and your book shutting snaps Charles back to reality. Without turning, your voice penetrates the silence. “What are you doing?” With sleep and unuse, your voice is raspy.

“Looking at you.” He answers slowly.

Your eyes meet his, eyebrow raising as you turn slightly. “Why?”

“Just…” he pauses. It’s impossible to articulate why. So he says instead, “Just looking.”

—

When a race is won, reaches its climax and its end all at once, it’s a noisy affair.

Tonight, there are fireworks, music, the pulse of excitement in the crowd that celebrates Leclerc’s P1. Everything moves fast, fast, fast—interviews, cheers, arms wrapped around him, worshipping him, fans screaming. Then it’s the media pen, questions over and over, then he’s packing up, tallying points, having debriefs.

He tugs off his helmet. Everything is fast, even in his moment of winning. Fast and quick and heavy. But he seeks something, something to make time slow—

And finds her, wearing a too-big Ferrari shirt (courtesy of Joris getting the sizing all wrong) in the crowd by the pit lane, beautiful as ever. You’re waving, your enthusiasm in your whoops of encouragement. You blow a kiss, and time is slow again. He watches you grip the front of the shirt and present it proudly, the big 1-6 embedded on it. He’s yours, yes, he is.

I love you, you mouth slowly. He nods back—it’s more than enough. Then you’re making a shoo motion with your hand, decorated with bracelets that match his. Go, you’re saying, go and be the winner, be the best driver. Later, you’ll be mine, just mine, just Charles.

He’s whisked away to do an interview, but his eyes are stuck on yours, excited and proud. You never usually like watching races, out of fear, but Charles insists you do, presses a kiss to your forehead and promises everything will be okay. You end up digressing almost every time.

“I’d imagine this win is the highlight of the week,” says the journalist smugly, then extends the mic to Charles’ lips.

He shakes his head a little. “Just one of them,” he responds, smiling.

—

A necklace with an initial on it, a thin silver ring across your middle finger, a matching bracelet on your wrist.

“Who is that?” Charles asks dazedly, shoulder bumping Carlos’. An explanation is fed into his ear, someone who knows someone knows her and invited her to attend this dinner. It’s getting late in London, and he’d been prepared to get to his car and go to his hotel, but suddenly he’s distracted, stopped in his tracks.

It almost feels weird to have time slow so much like this.

Even when he’s in a racing car, or winning, or when a car careens off track and time seems to hang in the balance—nothing has made him feel this way before. He watches you laugh, play with the neckline of your black top and listens to your ring clink against your glass of champagne.

Your hair is tied into a loose bun, framing your face, your lips making animated conversation with someobody else. He wants to hear your voice, make you smile, see how you react to his own jokes. Time crawls when he thinks of you, moves like a turtle walking through honey.

So later, when he’s almost abandoned the idea of introducing himself, he finds you clicking your car keys on the sidewalk. He clicks his, watches the lights of his Ferrari blink open, and you turn to him, smiling coyly.

You open your mouth, and say: “So you’re the cute dickhead who can’t park?”

Again, time moves in slow motion, your bun coming undone as you turn, hair falling over your back, arms crossing over your torso. Your high heels click softly against the pavement as you listen to him stutter out an introduction, an apology for the shit parking. This is it, he thinks, the start of something absolutely beautiful.

If he’s looked at you now, he thinks, he can’t ever look away. He hopes he doesn’t ever have to.

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

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bunnyyamor · 1 year

Text

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ nanami with a short reader headcanons

nanami kento x fem! short reader ୨୧ ꒰ mentions nsfw content in here…mdni ꒱ not betad read, pet-names, a lot of fluff

pls comment + like + reblog; i would rlly appreciate it (๑˘︶˘๑)

nanami sleeps on you

it’s so cute because you are like his little pillow.

the day was rough for him, his job wanting more time from him and the work more stressful causing him to have a headache and just ache his limbs from the constant sitting and typing.

you gave him so medicine, cooked him a delicious dinner and ordered him to go take a shower and sleep. he mattered so much to you.

“i will take a shower now just, let me close my eyes for a second.” his voice was soft and rough. you were sitting beside him, his big hands wrapped around your tiny ones as you looked at his face.

his attention and awake went out the window and instead were replaced by tiny snores and breaths. he was sleeping.

“aww poor baby.” you felt so bad for him. he always looked so tired.

the next thing he did was so adorable you wanted to cuddle with him and carry him to bed yourself.

you were so tiny compared to him in height. siting next to him you realized the height difference.

his face looked so relaxed as he started drooping down your side.

you tried to catch him but instead his head plopped on your shoulder.

yes he may have been heavy but you could handle it. you needed to because you didn’t want to disturb him.

his head was much bigger than yours and bigger than your shoulders.

you were like his tiny pillow.

his eyebrows twisted in inoocene, perhaps dreaming.

he mumbled something in his sleep under the lines of, “i love you baby girl. thank you for taking care of me.” ending it with a small smile.

you smiled too, combing his soft hair with your fingers and kissing his forehead. “you can stay there as long as you want, love.”

him having to dip his head down low to kiss you

he was gone the whole day, of course fighting and doing his job. you understood the circumstances but it still didn’t make it easier.

you missed your nanami.

missed his arms around you, his smell, his voice. all of it. you craved it.

but the most thing you missed were his kisses.

you hated not having him! it made you grumpy.

finally, the mystery man returned home. bags under his eyes, suit still on, which turned you on even more.

nanami loosened his tie as he sat in front of the tv.

you knew he wanted to relax but he didn’t even come to you.

you coughed, “mr. nanami. why haven’t you say hello to me?” and the fact he didn’t even kiss you when walking in.

you hadn’t been kissed the whole day. it was as if he was trying to see how long you could last.

nanami combed back his hair as he got up with a moan, “i’m sorry baby. it’s just been rough at work. but you’re right. how’s my sweetheart doing?” he would closen up to you. towering over you that you had to look up at him.

his hands would come up to pat your head and caress your cheek.

“you’re sweetheart is not doing good,” you pouted. your lip sticking out like a child.

nanami chuckled, “hmm? why is that?”

you crossed your arms, “because, you haven’t even kissed me all day.”

nanami bit his lip to try to stop him from bursting out laughing.

“so…kiss me!” you stood on your tippy toes as you leaned against his torso. your lips pursed out with a grunting sound as you closed your eyes.

“okay, baby wants her kiss,” nanami smiled as he lowered down, dipping his head to kiss your lips.

your head seemed so tiny in his palms.

you smiled in the kiss as you both moved in sync and nanami deepened the kiss.

when you wear his shirt

fuck, you felt your legs tremble and weak

you were very much sore

last night nanami was fucking you so good, long deep strokes inside you as he made you cum more than once.

you woke up with a groan, hurting

you saw beside you nanami still fast asleep, the covers slipping, showing slightly his v lines

you wanted to let him sleep so you got up, not disturbing him and noticed the chill air

you wanted to slip on something simple and loose so you saw his t-shirt hanging on the chair and decided to use his shirt

it was huge on you!

the end of it made it to your knees and it was loose and flabby

it looked like a dress on you

you smiled bashfully at the size different

as your bare feet padded on the floor to go have waffles for breakfast your face met with nanami’s bare chest.

“you’re wearing my shirt?” he held onto the loose fabric.

you looked down, not wanting to be embarrassed. “yes. it’s super comfy.”

nanami pulled you in closer by the shirt and kissed your lips. “i like it on you. you look adorable.” he grabbed your tiny hand and walked with you out to the kitchen, loving how he wore the pants to the pjama set and you wore the shirt.

he loved how big it was on you, and something ignited in him seeing you wearing his shirt.

you jump in his arms

nanami has fought curses. monsters that could eat your flesh. has fought humans with unexplainable power

nanami has done it all

and yet here he was racing to your shared apartment after fightingin curses because you were screaming on the phone

“nanami get here quick. help!”

his heart raced at what might have happened to you.

feeling a lump in his throat he pushed back tears, needing to get to your safety. he always wanted to protect you. he wouldn’t know what to do if you were gone.

but when he showed up and actually saw your problem

“y/n, what’s wrong princess?” he said breathless.

“it’s a SPIDER!”

you were literally standing on the counter, screaming at a wolf spider as it walked around like it owned the place

nanami had his hands on his hips like a stern parent, “are you serious? this is what you called me for?”

“nanami, get it! it’s coming for me!” you screamed high pitched. you were deathly afraid of spiders

nanami rolled his eyes.

the spider made it’s way up the cabinets and you jumped down with a squeal and jumped in nanami’s arms, “get it! get the fuckin spider!”

you were so small and short in nanami’s arms.

your legs wrapped around his stomach and your arms wrapped around his neck, your face hiding there as well. “oh please nanami get the spider. it’s scarring me”

nanami wanted to kiss you all over with how cute you were.

he held you under your butt holding you closer.

he loved how adorable you were holding him and being afraid

what an innocent fear

“it’s okay baby, i got you.” nanami’s deep voice soothed you as he kissed your cheek.

still holding onto you, you almost choking him, he stepped on the spider

“i-is it dead?” your lips trembled and you had tears in your eyes.

nanami chuckled, “baby, i thought something happened to you? i came running as fast as i could.”

“i’m sorry…thank you for killing the spider for me.” you kissed his nose, still holding onto him.

nanmi still had his glasses on and work attire, even having his cursed weapon with him

he looked like he would go into battle with a fuckin spider

“it’s okay love, i’m just glad you’re safe.”

dancing with you

on a yacht, orchestra music blaring, good food, you and nanami dressed to the nines

life was good

nanami loved how perfect you were in his arms

he loved holding you tight against him as you two leaned against the yacht railing, staring at the stars

a beautiful song stared playing and nanami stuck his hand out to you like a gentleman, “i would love to ask the princess for a dance?”

you giggled like a school girl, living out your fantasy

“why yes, my prince.” you took his hand and he led you to the middle of the dance floor

just you and him, peace and quiet

nanami loved how precious you were

so fragile like a dove

you body snuggled up to him as you two danced, bodies close

your head laid against his chest as you heard his heart beat

the heart that beat for you

you gave a satisfied hum

as you two twirled and he dipped you, the way you were like a little stuffed animal to nanami, so cute made him blush

you were so adorable being so tiny

he just wanted to pick you up and give you a million kisses

being drunk with nanami

“what a fuckin bitch,” you spat as you saw the sport on the tv

you both were at a bar

you were absolutely wasted drunk

nanami was surprised at how many drinks got you

he was expecting more but realized it only took a small amount for you because of the size difference

he still was nurturing his glass while he called it done for you

“awww c’mon nanami, one more!” you whined like a child

“no. you’re drunk y/n. besides you’re making a ruckus.”

you glared at him

‘m’fine,” hiccup

nanami shook his head as he tried to get you to drink water

to think only a few drinks got you this drunk, it was astounding to nanami

“hahaha, nanami i love you baby. i love you so much. mmmmmmmm, you’re meh favoriteeeeee hubbyyyyyyyyy.”

nanami couldn’t help but chuckle, “we’re not husband and wife yet, babe.”

“hmmm? wellll, soon we gots to chang’em thater.”

nanami patted your head

“i lover this man to the moon and back, yessir! and his cock is soooooo big i want to eater right now!” you shouted at the top of your lungs

nanami’s eyes widened in embarrassment because everyone was looking at him

he covered his face to try to hide his red face

“that’s it, wer’re leaving.”

“whuh-why? i’amer just getting started” hiccup

nanami knew you weren’t going to come willingly so he picked you up and threw you short body over his shoulder like you were a bag of rice

affectionate

he obviously is the bigger spoon and loves to coddle you in bed and bear hug you

like a weighted blanket

when he wakes up early for work he will give you a kiss to your forehead, loving the way your hair smells

the way you smell

it hard for him to unglue himself from you in the bed

then when days he has work off you usually wake up first so you can make him breakfast

like i said earlier youll be in his shirt making waffles or eggs

whatever he wants

while its cooking you’ll sit at the breakfast table enjoying your cup of coffee

sleep is still evident in your eyes as you yawn like a cute kitty in his eyes

he likes to greet your small form by kissing atop your head, chuckling at how cute you get by almost jumping up from his rudeness

he loves giving you forehead kisses

even while your cleaning the dishes he will tower over you and grab your face to give you a wet kiss

tongue swiping in between your lips as he feels the need to devour your cute little body

wedding day

he was so nervous

so were you

anxious chills and shaky hands

you found a dress perfect for your size

it was enough but not too much that it overpowered you

it was perfection

you knew nanami would love it

finally when you showed him he started crying

he couldn’t help it, tears just streamed down his face, happy tears

he even was blushing and a giggly mess

your heart was full of love

He was the man for sure you wanted to marry

The height difference was so cute because you had this elegant delicate poofy dress and he wore his nice tight masculine suit

He dipped down to kiss your forehead, giggling so happy with happy tears as he took your face in his hands

“You look so beautiful baby”

Between him blushing and his tears you started tearing up as well just because you love this man so much

“I can’t believe you're my wife”

“I can’t believe you're my husband. I am mrs. Kento”

angel’s little words - this is kinda self indulgent bc I am 4’11 but I got all these headcanon ideas and inspo from this tiktok video, I hope u all enjoyed some domestic casual nanami

#jjk x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento x you #nanami kento headcanons #kento nanami x reader #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #nanami kento imagine #nanami kento drabble #kento nanami x you #kento nanami headcanons #kento nanami fluff #nanami kento jjk #nanami kento x y/n

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yenqa · 7 months

Text

POEMS IN VERSE(S)

sypnosis — you meet jay randomly on a subway, and soon your conversation turns into more than just the silly poem book he’s reading

warnings — profanities, mentions of insecurities, angst, they’re so gross (in a “i’m jealous” way), food/eating/drinking, lmk if there are any more :)

pairing — jay x fem!reader

word count — 3.8k+

yen’s note — i worked very hard on this and i’m pretty happy with this so i hope u enjoy :) also this is a scheduled post

Spring Break, 2019

You counted down the amount of days it would be until you turned 17.

17 was the golden age—Or at least it was supposed to be. But the thrill of turning a new age was over by the next 15 minutes. Your big smile that had originally been processing the newfound year of your life slowly dropped, as your age didn’t really matter much to anyone else than your mom or dad.

17 was when you first realized that people didn’t really care as much as you thought they did. No one would care if your hair was slightly frizzy and tangled from the light wash of rain or the fact that you enjoy reading and writing poetry.

You realized no one cared, but it was hard to stop believing it.

So, you brought a hairbrush around, or quickly hid your journal and pen anytime someone got close to you.

You’re still 17. And you still felt like how you felt 15 minutes after midnight. You felt dull. Washed-out. And the rainy season hasn't helped enlighten your mood at all.

You decided to take an impulsive day trip south, to the buzzing city of Seattle, and also wanting to take a break from everyone and the life you knew. You rushed to the subway, the tote bag that hung on your shoulder had collided with your body every step you took.

You stand right in front of the entrance, scanning the cart to see one empty seat. Sitting down, you address your surroundings, trying to read if maybe it would be a better idea to stand.

Next to you was a man around your age. Silently reading a book with a familiar cover. Staring at the book longer than you realize, you can see the man next to you no longer focused on the book, but you.

“Oh—I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to be staring, I just recognized the book, Lee Jieun right?”

You almost dreamily sigh every time she’s mentioned. Lee Jieun had been your favorite author for longer than you can remember, one of your favorites by her being the one the unnamed man happened to have been reading.

“Do you know her?” He asks.

Looking up at you he jerks his head to the left, his light brown hair moves out of his eyes revealing his full face. You almost forget to answer the question, busy goggling at the sight of him. His eyes laid in yours, awaiting your answer patiently.

“Yeah, I-um she’s one of my favorites actually.”

His eyes subtly check you out, you quickly realize how stupid you must’ve looked with the amount of frizz in your hair from the light drizzle outside. Slowly but not too obviously, you bring your hands up, brushing through whatever you could. Explaining to the man that the book he was reading was one of your favorite poem books. Accidently sharing that you look up to her poems and hope to have the ability to write and share your writing as inspiration for others.

He listens intently, before asking, “You write?”

Your ears grow warm as you answer every question he asks. An unusual thing that happens to you. The conversation grows into each other's lives. And you feel as if you know every part of him as he continues to talk.

Park Jongseong is his name but his English name is Jay. His favorite color is green. He likes fashion and cooking. He enjoys autumn and poetry as much as you do. He’s allergic to cats—which is a shame considering the amount of cat hair over your bag that you discreetly try to brush off while he’s talking. His favorite ice cream flavor is Pistachio and he’s not a huge fan of mint chocolate.

You’d usually argue that mint chocolate is the perfect flavor for a hot summer day but you keep quiet, just this once.

Something must’ve snuck into your brain and rewired it because you don’t seem to mind him knowing that you write. In fact you even offer to let him see your works. He reads each word intently, as if it was the most shocking news of the year.

His favorite is the one you spent the most time on. But it didn't feel as if it was your best work. You didn’t keep quiet about that fact, you hesitated to even let him read that page, but the one line seemed to have piqued his interest. Almost as if his eyes had been glued onto the small stanza.

Together we’re complete

Our perfect harmony

is truly beautiful.

You were always one to believe in soulmates, or finding someone that perfectly fit next to you. Like the final piece to your complicated puzzle. Your belief often appeared in your writings. Hoping that maybe one day, you’ll meet the missing piece from your board. That day hadn’t come yet. But you were counting down the days just as if you were about to turn 17 again.

“I like that line. What does it mean?” He asks.

“I don’t know, it just sounded right.”

That’s a lie. You know exactly what it means to you. But even as comfortable as you had felt with Jongseong. It was something too personal to share.

If you could name anyone who was the biggest sucker for romance you would name yourself. But it’s been 17 years, and you don’t even think that it was a possible option for you. Sure, you hoped to find your soulmate. But your soulmate could’ve easily been a truly platonic one. And you were losing hope for any romance coming your way. Writing about romance made you feel as if the small ball of hope was still there, and you just had to wait for the right time.

Those 17 years had told you that you couldn’t be loved. No matter how hard you tried, or even begged. This epiphany randomly hit you in the middle of buzzing parties or small group hangouts, the thought of nobody ever loving, let alone liking you constantly consumed you. Constantly bringing down your mood. That’s why you’re so fond of the idea of soulmates. Because soulmates are perfectly perfect together, and that's ensured by the universe.

He lets out a chuckle, with an understanding nod. Skimming through the small notebook you handed him.

“Why are you heading to Seattle?” You ask as he finishes, placing the notebook neatly in your bag. His mouth parts slightly, carefully choosing what to say. “I’m just taking a day trip, wanted to go explore alone.”

A small smile breaks out of you. “Would you want to travel around Seattle together?”

Jongseong lets your smile grow onto his lips, accepting your bold offer.

The conversation ends and he reopens his book, continuing the page he was on. The ride still had at least thirty minutes to go, and you didn’t want to use all your phone battery now.

You glance over to his book, cursing at yourself for forgetting to bring something to do other than play the stupid games on your phone. He silently reads as your head moves to his shoulder, laying it down and reading with him. You can feel him flinch ever so slightly, his shoulders relax before he moves the book over to the middle of you two, not uttering a word while doing so.

“Thank you,” Your voice is barely above a whisper, and you’re not sure if he even heard it until he responds.

After around 45 minutes the subway comes to a stop and you tap Jongseong, pointing at the moving text on the sign to show you that you’re at your destination. He hastily picks up his stuff, grabbing your hand and walking out the doors.

“Where do we go?” You ask, looking around for any sort of sign that states the direction.

“Just follow me, I've been here a few times.” His warm hand leads you through the busy people trying to get in, pushing through the loads of people heading towards the small amount of doors in the cart. Jongseong looks back every so often, making sure the hand he’s holding isn’t a ghost. Your eyes lock, and you show him a small smile of appreciation. He smiles back, raising his eyebrows before turning back around, leading you through the clusters.

Finally, you walk up the stairs, stepping into the daylight. Still hand in hand, you use your off hand to cover your eyes from the shade. “Didn’t think it would be so sunny after all the rain this month,” You squint at the bright sky, looking over to Jongseong. He’s rummaging through his bag, pulling out a small box, opening it to reveal sunglasses. You chuckle at how prepared he is, until he places the sunglasses on you.

Your stomach erupts in butterflies as your mouth parts slightly, a smile grows on his face. “Oh no, keep them. I don’t need them” You hastily take off the sunglasses, handing them to him. He takes them, putting them back on you. You’re about to protest when he says. “Stop—just take them. I want you to wear them,” He mumbles.

You smile at him, “Thank you Seong.” The nickname comes out naturally, like you’ve known him for years. He smiles, looking away to hide the growing redness of his cheeks. You let out a breathy laugh, covering the bottom half of your face to hide the flustered state you’re in.

“Where do you wanna go?” He asks with a shy smile still planted on his face. You shrug, answering, “I have no idea. Do you have any ideas?”

His smile becomes less shy and somehow forms into a slight smirk “I have an idea.” his hands encase yours once again, and he whisks you two off to the unknown direction.

The walk is around twenty minutes, but it goes by quickly. While you two are racing to see who can hit the crosswalk button, you notice the crowds of people around the big red letters stating, “Seattle’s Farmers Market.”

You squeal, a hand coming up to cover your mouth. “I’ve always wanted to go here! You’re like a mindreader, Seong.”

With his other hand he pinches your cheek, squeezing your hand and leading you to the entrance. The growing crowd of the market pushes you to bump into each other every so often, you both laugh it off, placing your attention to whatever shop you’re checking out.

Coming across a tropical fruits stand, you start looking around, picking up a tray every so often. Not realizing the missing warmth from your hand, you scan the selection of fruits. Picking up a Rambutan, you move the tray around, trying to see if the fruit will be worth the price. You’re eye level with the fruit until you feel a tap on your shoulder.

You whirl around, to see Jongseong. A big grin planted on his face as he revealed why he’s smiling so much. A bouquet of tulips, wrapping in brown paper with twine wrapped around it waiting for you to take. But you’re frozen—Did he really just buy flowers for you?

He thrusts his hands out towards you, gesturing for you to take them. You let out a giggle, taking the brown wrapped plants out of his hands. “Gosh you’re so sweet. What did I do to deserve all of this?” You ask, the corners of your mouth slowly upturn when you look at the flowers, admiring the arrangement of light pink tulips. “Can’t I spoil you?” He responds smoothly, not letting you respond before linking your arms and heading to the next stalls.

Passing—What felt like hundreds of stalls, your feet started to cramp up. Both of you decide to take a break and sit down, finding a cafe nearby. You order for the both of you and pay—Which he strongly protests but you feel too bad for him spending too much money on you. Sitting down you let out a sigh, finally letting your feet take the much needed rest.

You two make small talk, talking about your favorite shops or something you wish you had bought. When the barista calls out your name you shoot out of your seat, exchanging a glance with Jongseong before walking over, thanking the lady and grabbing your drinks.

A wave of comfortable silence washes over you two as you try your drinks, glancing out the huge window by your table. You watch as families, couples, or just one person pass by that window. Trying to figure out something about them as they quickly pass by.

After an hour of quiet conversations of whatever intrigues you, you decide to leave the cafe. Dinner time was approaching and you wanted to beat the rush. Surprisingly, you both quickly decide on a restaurant to go to, a nice restaurant that perfectly suited your cravings. During dinner you exchange numbers, not being able to wait for the next time you’ll see each other.

The sun starts setting when you both decide to go home, walking to the subway station hand in hand. Paying for your fare you both head on the subway, sitting down next to each other. A yawn washes over you, laying your head back and closing your eyes—It’s not like you’ll fall asleep right?

It’s a shame that you did fall asleep. You feel yourself being gently shaken awake by Jongseong. You lift your head up from his shoulder, looking around the subway.

“Your stop is the next one. Can’t have you half asleep walking home.” He chuckles, you rub your eyes. Trying your best to stretch with the little space you have. “Thank you Seong.” You yawn, letting out a small smile.

He nods, inviting the smile from your face onto his. The subway comes to a stop once again and you look at him with a slight sadness. Planting a chaste kiss on his cheek you let out, “I had fun today, Seong. Let’s do it some time again, yeah?”

“Okay,” He says, smiling. “Text me when you get home okay?” You salute him, walking away with a lovesick smile on your face.

Jongseong holds the same one, still feeling the linger of your kiss on his cheek. He lets his hand touch his cheek, embarrassed by the amount of warmth that flooded his cheeks.

Spring, 2021

It had been around a year and a little over a half since the two of you had even talked.

You don’t know if he got a new number or randomly ghosted you. Even though you had met a bunch of times after, it seemed like he realized that he didn’t like you as much as you thought he did.

You should’ve expected it, I mean—It’s not like anybody could like you that much.

Sighing, you open the messaging app. Typing something in his chat before deleting it. Scrolling up to your old messages.

You hated the fact that you missed him even though you never even dated. You hated the fact that you thought you could be something more than just a failed situationship. You hated the fact that you thought someone could prove you wrong and that someone could love you.

But, of course. All good things came to an end. And what seemed to be like the only good thing in your life, completely ghosted you. You like to believe that he got a new number and forgot to tell you, or lost his phone and had to get a new sim card. But it still hurt.

So, everytime you thought of him, you reopened those messages, trying to reiterate the happiness you felt while texting him.

Looking down to the bottom of your phone you see the empty textbox, mocking you for opening the chat once again. You decide, What’s the harm in messaging him? Maybe he just missed your last few. Clicking on the textbox you type slowly, carefully thinking about your words before sending it.

hey, are you still there? didn’t take you for the type who ghosts girls

You sigh, deleting the text quickly. Looking over to see the ungodly hour of the night displayed on your clock you place your phone down, tucking yourself nicely under the blanket, praying to every god that maybe, he’s okay.

Autumn, 2022

“Have you heard Enhypens recent album? It’s so good!” Hanni exclaims, changing the music playing in the background to listen to the album.

“This is like a few months old, but anyways—Shout out is the best song ever, you should play that song.” Minji answers. They both look at you, asking for your opinion. “Who’s Enhypen?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing as you look up from your phone.

Minji scoffs, “My seven boyfriends. Listen to this song! Isn’t it so good?”

You listened to the background, bopping your head to the upbeat guitar in the instrumental. The lyrics were sweet, and meaningful. Even though you quit poetry, words still had lot’s of meaning for you, and you loved when they found significance in songs. One guy’s voice sounds so vaguely familiar, you brush it off. You probably just saw a clip of him singing a while back and didn’t remember. Getting to the second verse you pay much attention to the lyrics. Your jaw drops hearing one of the lines.

“What’d he just say? Can you rewind a few seconds Hanni?” You ask and she shrugs, opening her phone to go back a few seconds.

Listening to the same verse again you hear those awfully familiar lyrics.

Our perfect harmony

Is truly beautiful

You know those words like the back of your hand. You wrote these exact words in a poem two or three years ago. Could this be a coincidence? Probably, right? You’re too consumed in your own thoughts to hear both of the echoes of your name, following with Hanni asking why.

Slowly pulling out your phone, you quickly search “Enhypen” into the bar. Looking at the members you scan the faces. Looking at them all you see—

Jay.

That’s Jongseong.

No way, it can’t be. Clicking on his link you’re met with a collage of images. Your body seems to be moving faster than your mind because immediately you scroll down to read the small box of information about him. Oh and of course his name is Park Jongseong too but that's a coincidence, right? Switching apps, you open a selfie you and Seong took on one of your few dates.

You feel as if your eyes will shoot out of your brain, blurting out “I know him.”

Minji and Hanni both exchange weird looks, “You know who? Enhypen? Letting out a hesitant nod, they both rush over to see Jongseong’s information box on your screen. Switching apps to show them the selfie, then each side by side. “Y/n, you know Jay? As in Enhypen’s Jay?” Hanni gives you a bewildered look. You turn your head up to see Minju sharing the same one. Blinking profusely, you try to figure out how this is even possible.

“Yes! Remember the guy who ghosted me like two years ago? That’s him!” You exclaim, aggressively pointing to a picture of him. Minji’s mouth opens, forming an “o”. You all sit in silence processing this information.

Breaking the silence, Minji scoffs, “You’re telling me you had a situationship with Jay Park?

Another long silence follows, you all try to process the fact that the one you deemed as “the one who got away” was globally famous. Maybe he realized his worth, and left you. Maybe, he didn’t bother contacting you because he secretly disliked you. Or maybe he—

“Y/n, he’s coming to Seattle.”

You whip your head to the incoming voice. Instead of seeing a face, you see a phone, straight in front of you listing tour dates. You grab a hold of the phone, making sure you read the words right. “Seattle, Washington. 9/28.”

“They’re coming in a week?” You exclaim, eyes not leaving the phone for a second. Hanni rushes over and you all huddle around the phone. Your breath quickens as you process even more information. And you felt like your brain was about to explode, he would be. in city? in a week?

Hanni practically screams, shaking your shoulders harshly. She seems much more excited than you did, blabbering about how you would reunite and fall in love again. Rolling your eyes, you hand Minji back her phone. You start to question every life decision you had made in the past three years. Would he even remember you? What if it’s a different Jongseong who just happened to have the same name and look exactly like the Seong you once knew? Would you even run into him for the few days he’s there?

These thoughts circle in your brain as you lay down in bed. You thought you were over him—you weren’t even anything to begin with. Maybe it's the quickening beat of your heart to the thought of him , or the smile you hold in whenever you look back at your texts, or maybe even the loneliness you felt after him that keeps you going.

Autumn, 2022

The light breeze engulfs your body. Even though the sun seems to be blinding everywhere it’s still as chilly as ever. Looking at everyone’s outfits on the sidewalk you realize how stupid you look. Fully clothes but with sunglasses covering your eyes. Was it a necessary choice? No—but you realized that after you had left the house. It didn’t matter anyways, you could just take them off (you weren’t but it was still an option).

Taking your lunch break you walk to the cafe around the corner from your building. Recognizing the cafe as one you visited a few years ago. You ordered the same drink you did three years ago—also ordering a sandwich to eat. You sit down at a table two tables away from the one you once sat at. Placing down your sunglasses you glance around the cafe while waiting for your food.

Noticing a man in a baseball hat and a mask, you squint trying to see his face. Giving up seconds later and observing someone else. Eyes latching onto the pretty barista making your order. Watching as she quickly makes your sandwich and starts on your drink, not wasting a second to spare.

“I think those sunglasses are mine?” The masked man comes up to you, taking off his baseball cap. You get a better view of his eyes, recognizing the crinkle of his eyes when he smiles.

“Jay?” It’s barely above a whisper, but he still hears it.

He pulls down his mask, showing the face you once knew three years ago, but much more mature now. “Y/n, can we talk?” He sounds nervous, almost jittery. Constantly looking around at the strangers walking by.

“Yeah, of course.” The light tone of your voice calms him down every so slightly, sitting down in front of you with a lopsided smile.

Never in your life would you have thought you’d meet a celebrity that actually wanted to talk to you, And never in your life would you expect it to be him. Seong—Your Seong, sitting in front of you, carefully selecting every word he utters to you. The one who always knew what to say, can’t seem to get the right words out.

taglist : @jwnghyuns @ja4hyvn @trsrina @redm4ri @badmuni @yeokii @enhastolemyheart @softpia @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick

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